


Appearances

by twistedmiracle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Complete, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-16 10:08:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 103,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1343593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedmiracle/pseuds/twistedmiracle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucius Malfoy has come up with the perfect way to put the Malfoy family back in the sun. Draco will simply have to do as he is told.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One: Seeking

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by the skilled and much appreciated 13Moons and DrGaellon.  
> 
> Disclaimer: They aren't mine, they belong to the clever Scottish lady. I just bend them and love them. Please don't smack me for playing. It isn't like I am going to earn any money from this!  

“But, Father, he isn’t a pureblood?” Draco obviously knew the answer to the immediate question, but he wanted more than that. 

“Oh, son, it doesn’t matter.” Lucius stood up and walked to the window, looking out over the grounds of his beautiful estate.

“But I thought we…” Draco allowed this to trail off. His father answered quickly.

“Yes, Draco, having pure blood is a point of pride for us, but the real goal is power, and he has it. In spades.”

“Obviously, but…”

“Draco. You knew about the Dark Lord’s father, did you not?”

Draco gave his father one respectful nod.

“Well, so did I. I knew about the Muggle father from early on. Before I took the Mark, actually. I did not join Voldemort out of pureblood pride any more than Voldemort’s true goal was pureblood purity. I joined the Dark Lord for power. I knew that he had an excellent chance of taking over the entire world. The entire world, Draco. We won’t see ambition and power wrapped up together like that again for centuries.” 

Lucius sighed once, almost inaudibly, and stared out the window for a moment. His face was a mask, but his actions belied his wistfulness and longing nonetheless. Draco waited.

Lucius turned slowly from the window, looking for all the world like he wanted to shake off a daydream like a shaggy puppy. Of course he did nothing of the kind.

“Son, there was one man – hell, there was one _**person**_ , who had the power to defeat the greatest, the most terrible wizard in the history of this world. Dumbledore got rid of Grindelwald, but not even Dumbledore could take down my Master. In the end, the man I want you to marry defeated my Master eleven times. Ten times he did so partially, and once he completely and totally defeated the Dark Lord. Harry Potter is the most powerful, the greatest, the most influential wizard of our time. I want you to marry power, Draco, and he has it.”

“Well, he does at that.” Draco spoke respectfully, but there was a tone of not-quite-acceptance in his voice.

“And we are going to use his power to our advantage, son.” Lucius took a deep breath and looked directly at Draco. He looked sad. Draco was surprised to see so much emotion on Lucius’ face. Lucius’ appearance was almost always a blank, polite mask – even after all the time in Azkaban, even alone with Draco. “My son. My heir. My _only_ son. You know I had such dreams for you. My Lord was going to control the world and I was going to serve him, for you. 

“The Wizengamot, chairman of powerful boards, Gringotts, Headmaster of Hogwarts, ambassadorial positions, Minister of Magic, nothing was to be out of your reach. But no one was counting on Harry Potter. Because of him, I turned out to have chosen the losing side. But, thanks to him, oh, great irony of my life, I missed, and therefore survived the last few years of the war, locked up tight in Azkaban. And since I was caught doing something relatively minor, I wasn’t given the life sentence or Kiss I would surely have received if Potter _hadn’t_ gotten me locked up for over fifteen years.”

Lucius gave Draco a sharp look, a careful look. “You must not think I’m doing this out of some bizarre form of gratitude to him, Draco. You are not to be his prize, _he is to be ours_. His power and influence are to be _our_ reward, do you understand?”

Draco gave his father a careful look in return and nodded, once.

“At any rate, you know that, as much as I harbored great goals for your power and glory, we must both put the family name and long-term status ahead of even you. Instead of a son for Minister of Magic, perhaps I will have a grandson or great-grandson in the role. And you, my treasure, are relegated to the role of wife to a powerful man. You know it galls me. Deeply.” Lucius moved near as though to pat Draco’s arm, paused, then went ahead and patted him awkwardly. 

Draco had never seen his father so visibly discomfited. “Father, you know I will always do what you require of me.”

“Then this is acceptable to you, Draco?”

“Yes, Father. It is.”

“And you understand my reasons? What I believe we can gain? What you will have to sacrifice for the family? For our name and our standing in society?”

“Yes, Father, I do. I understand, and I accept.” Draco swallowed. Lucius almost did not see it. “I will not let you down, sir.”

“Excellent, Draco.” Lucius breathed a touch more freely. “I feared that you would still harbor a desire to marry the Greengrass heiress. I will contact Lupin immediately.”

Draco held himself in check, even after his father left the room. Excellent. Excellent, indeed. He had played his father like a harp, so carefully, for months now. He could finally stop worrying about manipulating Lucius into what Draco wanted for Draco. Now he only had to manipulate Potter…. 

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Number twelve, Grimmauld Place was rocking – or Remus’ study was, anyway. He’d put on an old Muggle record, one that had come out his last year at Hogwarts, and he was currently singing along, very loudly and only the slightest bit flat, to his favorite song in the history of Muggle rock. 

“ _… walkin through the streets of Soho in the rain. He was lookin for the place called Lee Ho Fooks, gonna get a big dish of beef chow mein …_ ”

Luckily, the next song had already come on when the owl flew in. Remus wasn’t nearly as fond of “Accidentally Like A Martyr.” So he was happy to turn down the music and stroke the lovely eagle owl as he took the letter. He was rummaging through his desk for owl treats when the elegant thing hooted proudly and flew off without taking a snack. 

The letter was a far bigger surprise than the owl’s behavior.

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The Rt Hon. The Lord Malfoy  
Lucius Francois-Xavier  
Malfoy Manor  
Wiltshire, United Kingdom

Mr. Remus Lupin  
Order of Merlin, Third Class  
Godfather to Mr. Harry Potter – Order of Merlin, First Class

Dear Mr. Lupin,  
I pray this letter finds you and your husband well. I write with an offer that I feel confident   
you will find welcome. As you know well, Mr. Potter is considered the most eligible bachelor   
alive in the wizarding world today. It is a rare soul that could capture the heart and hand   
of one such as him. My son and heir, Draco Bardolf Alexandre Malfoy is also available for   
marriage. His looks and intelligence are well known to your godson, and he has expressed   
to me a desire to make a formal bid for Mr. Potter’s hand. 

Draco brings with him much of note. Upon his marriage to Mr. Potter, _in manuum,  
Confarreatio_, I would cede the title of Lord Baron to my son and his spouse. Malfoy   
Manor and all surrounding lands will become his upon his marriage. Other properties and   
an exact accounting of the monetary portion of his dowry are detailed in the attached   
addendum. Narcissa and I plan to withdraw to our villa in Collioure (of Languedoc-Roussillon),   
and live out a comfortable retirement there, away from our son and his spouse. We would   
not wish to interfere with their happiness.

As the boys have had little contact since leaving Hogwarts, this letter may come as   
something of a surprise. Therefore, I propose that you, your husband, and your godson   
come to dinner at Malfoy Manor on the twelfth, Thursday next, at eight p.m. We will discuss   
the proposed match and answer any questions you and Mr. Potter may have. And, of course,   
it will be lovely to see you and Severus and Harry.

Sincerely,  
Lucius Malfoy

 

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Remus sat down at his desk and reread the letter. Then he read it a third time. In a way, something like this wasn’t unexpected – or, for that matter, unwelcome. The wizarding world had been trying to set Harry up with someone since he’d broken up with Ginny Weasley. And Harry was, whether he was willing to admit it or not, lonely. And eager to start a family. And terrible at negotiating the craziness of the dating scene. 

Then there was the matter of how Harry looked at Malfoy when he ran into the man. A few times a year, the two old rivals would end up at the same gathering or boring Ministry dinner, and Remus and Severus had both noticed, separately, that Harry always checked the younger Malfoy out, especially from behind when he was unlikely to be seen doing it by the man in question.

And then there was the “stick-it-to-him” factor of besting Lucius Malfoy, who was obviously desperate to come crawling to a half-blood werewolf to ask for the hand of the man who, as a fifteen year old boy, had got him thrown into Azkaban for fifteen years.

Not to mention the type of marriage in which Lucius wanted to entrap his beloved heir. _In manuum, Confarreatio_! Draco would be, in the eyes of the law, little more than chattel. It was the oldest and most unequal form of marriage known to wizard kind. Drawn directly from ancient Muggle Roman marriage rites and laws, _in manuum, Confarreatio_ meant that Draco would be magically bound to sexual fidelity, but Harry would not. A marriage of this kind actually assumed that the dominant spouse would play around on the “wife”. When Lucius died Harry would become Lord Malfoy, even though he wouldn’t have taken the new surname. Draco, on the other hand, would become a Potter. Everything that Draco would normally inherit from his father – title, money, land – would actually be Harry’s property, even if Draco died before producing an heir to the Malfoy name. Draco would actually not be legally entitled to own property in his own name at all. Draco would also be legally bound to bear all of their children, which was hard on a wizard, as it was magically possible but not the biological norm. Harry would also be the one to decide how many children they had. Going along with that, Draco would be legally bound to fulfill Harry’s sexual needs and desires on demand. A marriage such as this would force Draco to become something similar to a guest in his own home. 

“Severus?” Remus called. “Severus, dear? I got a letter just now, and I’d like to talk with you about it.”

Severus walked into Remus’ study a bit warily. He wasn’t fond of that old-fashioned Muggle rock and roll his husband loved so much. His preferences ran to wizarding music primarily, but he also loved some much more modern bands from, of all places, the United States. If Harry ever found out what a big fan he was of Jewel and The Dave Matthews Band, he knew the teasing would go on for weeks.

Happily, the Zevon had been turned way down, and Remus was sitting at his desk with a piece of very heavy and expensive looking parchment in front of him. He simply handed it to his husband, who sat in a comfortable chair and read it through. 

When he’d finished the letter and glanced at the addendum listing millions of Galleons worth of properties in the United Kingdom, France and elsewhere, Severus put the heavy letter in his lap and steepled his fingers expectantly at his Remus.

Remus wasted no time on vagaries. “I think Harry should accept this proposal, and I want to know what you think.”

“Tell me why you think he should, and I’ll have more to say.”

Remus stood and began to circle the room, stopping to poke at knickknacks and finger the mantelpiece. “First, Harry is lonely. Second, his relationship with Ginny aside, I think he’d be happier with a man. Third, another ‘hero’ might be able to handle it, but the interference of the wizarding press makes it essentially impossible for Harry to meet and fall in love with a stranger. He needs someone he already knows and likes who isn’t going to fawn all over him. That really limits his pool of potential spouses. He pretty much needs someone who either lives so far away that they’ve never heard of Voldemort, or someone with whom he went to Hogwarts. With his best friends together, Ginny in Australia and Dean marrying Pansy, and of course Seamus married to Blaise and Neville married to Luna … well, almost everyone he knew and cared about at school is already hooked up, except for Draco Malfoy. He has many friends, but he is lonely and he wants a sweetheart, a lover. I can see it in his eyes every time he comes to dinner, and every time he Floos home alone.”

Remus stared out the window for a moment.

“So many of his old friends have married Slytherins. They’re all starting to have children, and he’s going to be thrown together with Draco a lot, going to parties, weddings, baby namings, and all that. He already sees Draco at things like that, and at Ministry parties, but it’s going to get more frequent for a few years. He obviously fancies the man, and if he keeps seeing him – especially in casual, form-fitting clothes instead of the formal robes a Malfoy wears to the Ministry or a wedding, he’s going to embarrass himself. This could preclude that. I know Harry. He’s never going to act on this attraction without some sort of huge push from Draco’s side, and this certainly qualifies.”

Remus walked over to Severus and pulled him up out of the chair, put his arms around him, and spoke softly into his beloved’s ear.

“And, call me a sap, but I want him to be happy, and I think Gryffindors can be very happy indeed with Slytherins.”

He pulled away just enough to smooth Severus’ fringe away from his forehead. “I don’t think Harry should necessarily marry Draco, but I think he won’t be able to move on until he gives this a try. He should date the man, court him, and see if he wants this – aside from politics, aside from what Lucius wants, and aside from what you and I think as well. So that is what I think. What do you think?”

Severus’ voice was smooth and deep. “I think you are a sap indeed, wolf. I think they could perhaps be happy together and they should court and see. But I’m touched by your puppyish sentimentality and I don’t want to think about Harry and Draco any more. Come to bed.”

“But, Severus, it’s the middle of the afternoon. I thought you had potions brewing?”

Severus apparently did not care to discuss his work, and quickly made Remus forget he’d even brought it up.

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That night at dinner, which Harry frequently shared with his godfather and Severus (because Harry was lonely, Remus would tell him; “because I like you both,” Harry would reply, annoyed) the older men mentioned the letter. Remus hadn’t expected wedding bells to start ringing, but Harry’s reaction was still a bit more vehement than he’d expected. 

They’d been going ‘round in circles for a while now. Severus might agree with Remus that Harry should give this a shot, but he had already retired. This wasn’t his fight, and they all knew it.

“But Remus, I have no need of him. Sure, he and his father think they need me, but why should I say yes? With wizarding lifetimes what they are, we could easily be married for well over a hundred years! Why would I stick myself for over a hundred years with someone I’ve always hated, just for revenge on his father! That’s crazy!

“For money? I have plenty and it isn’t that important to me. For prestige? I have it, he wants it. That isn’t a good argument at all. I refuse to marry someone out of revenge, I don’t care what you think. To change the Malfoys forever? Look, he can marry Lavender Brown for that, or, I don’t know, Justin Finch-Fletchley. I’ve dedicated most of my freaking life to taking down Voldy. I refuse to dedicate the rest of my life to reforming Malfoys.

“And you can call me a Muggle, but I’m not going to go into a marriage already planning to be unfaithful!”

Remus tried his luck at convincing Harry yet again. “Harry, you need heirs, you need a house, you need a spouse to get the wizarding world and press to stop setting you up with every half eligible witch and wizard under the age of sixty-five!

“Besides, we know you think he’s fit. You whine about it when you get tipsy, and every time you come home from one of those stupid Ministry fetes where you saw him. And Severus and I have both watched you check out his arse!”

Harry sulked, but he didn’t really have an answer to this. It was true. If you ignored years of history and the man’s abrasive personality, no one was fitter and more fanciable than Draco sodding Malfoy. But those were big things to ignore. He was tired of this argument and he wanted to go home to his nice bed. His cold, empty bed that no one had been in other than him in months, his cock reminded him unhelpfully. He sat in Remus’ favorite chair and glared petulantly at the fire. He was tired of fighting with Remus. Severus was so tired of this stupid row that he’d gone to bed half an hour ago. Remus had begun resorting to repeating his old arguments, but really, that last one had some merit, whether Harry liked it or not. But, he told himself, what it really was about was not wanting to argue with his dear friend Remus any more.

“We’ll see. If you really, really want me to, I will meet with him.” An unexpected thrill ran through Harry’s gut. He decided it must be the open window letting in the chill of the night air.

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“Thanks for agreeing to have me over on such short notice, you two.” Harry put the bottle of wine on the table and sat down. 

Hermione kissed his cheek and sat down as well. “No problem, sweetie.”

Ron grabbed some wine glasses and clapped Harry companionably on the back before sitting next to his wife. “Both boys are asleep, Harry. What did you want to discuss? How about I pour us each a glass of this lovely wine you brought?” 

Harry took a deep breath. These were his oldest, dearest friends in all the world. Why was he so nervous? “Er, sure. Wine would be great.”

Ron began to pour the wine. 

“This is a little weird. I think I am going to have to just jump into it. Lucius Malfoy wants me to marry Draco. Remus and Severus are all for it, and I have agreed to meet with Draco and all four of our parents to talk about it.”

Hermione and Ron looked at each other. Both appeared a bit surprised, but nothing more dramatic than that. Harry had expected shouts. Possibly hexes.

“You two, er, don’t look exactly shocked.”

Hermione braved the territory first. “Well, you’ve always thought….” She paused to collect herself and leaned forward toward Harry, elbows on knees. “It isn’t that strange, Harry. The Malfoys like power, and you have a lot. Magical and political power both. So, er, why have you agreed to talk to them?”

“Well, Remus and Sev are all excited about this, and I guess I agreed at first because I want them out of my hair over it. But I have to tell you, even though I’m afraid you’ll be a little angry… I think Draco is really, er, attractive.”

Hermione patted Harry’s knee. “Harry, honey, of course you do.”

Harry’s mouth fell open like a fish and hung like that for a long second until he suddenly snapped it shut.

Hermione politely ignored him as she continued. “He’s gorgeous. And we understand. Since you and Ginny broke up, your love life has been pretty much nonexistent. Well, except in the pages of the _Prophet_.” She rolled her eyes as she continued. “If everything they printed was actually true….”

Ron broke in. “Harry, I’m glad you’re going to meet with him.”

“You are?!”

“Well, sure. Draco has changed. I see him at weddings and the same stupid Ministry stuff you do, you know, and I’ve run into him other places, too. Since Seamus married Blaise and Percy married Tracey, we see him at kid birthday parties and stuff like that, stuff you wouldn’t necessarily go to. He’s grown up. He isn’t the same little boy we met on the train when we were eleven. He’s… he’s a decent guy now, as far as I can tell. And really, Harry, even I’ve noticed the way you look at the man.”

“So you want me to marry him?!”

“Good lord, Harry, I didn’t say that.” Ron waved his hands around in frustration. “I said I am comfortable with you _dating_ him, talking about a match, whatever… you don’t marry someone because your old mates think you should, or your godfather and his husband, for that matter.”

“Harry, we would both be comfortable with you taking this seriously. I agree with Ron. Draco has grown up. He treats both of us, well, not exactly warmly, but he is perfectly appropriate when I see him in public. He has been for years. He’s an adult now. It is time to let go of old school rivalries and petty feuds. And you have with pretty much everyone else, like Pansy and Blaise and Severus. If you decide to date him, or marry him, Ron and I will be happy for you.”

“Sure. Until he hurts you. If he breaks your heart, I’ll break his face.”

“Ron!”

“Sorry, honey.” Ron tried hard to look sheepish.

Harry was moved. Touched. “Ron, Hermione, you’re, you’re my best mates for a reason. I love you both.” He stood and pulled them both into a hug. “I love you both. I feel so much better about this now.”

Harry took a sip of his wine, then abruptly stood and pushed away from the table. 

“Look, I know I surprised you by wanting to come over here tonight and I should get out of your hair. And I really ought to go running. An Auror has to stay fit, but I’ve been so distracted by this weird proposal that I’ve let my exercise routine get away from me. Would you mind terribly if I rushed out of here? I don’t want to be rude, but I feel like I’ve imposed on you enough.”

Ron and Hermione bid him a gracious goodbye, and Harry Flooed home to go for a run. Ron stared into the Floo for a long moment, shaking his head in fond exasperation for his transparent old friend. “Well,” he said, turning to put an arm around Hermione, who’d walked over and put her hand on his back. “If he isn’t already wanking himself raw over the idea of buggering Malfoy then I’m a Canary Cream. What do you think is going to come of all this?”

“I really don’t know in the long term, my love, but I expect he’ll at least sleep with Draco. And maybe he’ll stop mooning over the man. I’m really glad this is happening, actually. No matter what Harry decides in the end, we both know he’s been hard for Draco for years, and I’m a little tired of him denying it to himself.”

Together the couple walked into the kitchen, drinking their wine and tidying up from dinner.

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	2. Chapter Two: Teasing and Talking

Beta by DrGaellon and 13Moons

Chapter Two

Dinner had been delicious and Harry was pretty sure he’d used the correct cutlery and not embarrassed himself. Auror training came in handy at the oddest times. The Malfoys had all been incredibly gracious, though, and Narcissa was actually a lovely woman. It wasn’t every lady who could hold her own at a table full of men, mostly gay ones at that. 

And then there was Draco, who looked almost as delicious as the dinner had tasted. He’d grown his hair out a bit, and he wasn’t wearing robes. Instead, perhaps conceding Harry’s well-known preferences for Muggle-style clothing, he’d worn black trousers, of what Harry could swear was raw silk, and a cashmere jumper that made his eyes glow almost silver. Harry had been itching to stroke the garment since he’d arrived.

And though he’d not been anything other than a gracious host all evening, he’d taken many opportunities to drive Harry to distraction. He’d taken Harry’s cloak himself, touching Harry’s neck in the process. He’d sat near Harry and had touched his hand, twice, when he wanted to engage Harry’s attention about something or other. And when they spoke, he’d looked Harry right in the eye for the entire conversation. An Auror knew how rare it was for someone to look another in the eye like that—especially at length. And then there was his body, his hair, his face. The man looked like a cross between a Veela and an archangel, and Harry was no longer pretending to himself that he didn’t want to have sex with Draco Malfoy. 

But they’d been putting off the real conversation for long enough. And even Harry knew that Draco wasn’t the one he needed to address. They all retired to a different room for brandy, and Harry was done wasting time. “Why should I marry your son, Lucius? Wouldn’t it be easier to convince me to, I don’t know, befriend him publicly? Take an advert out in the _Prophet_ saying what lovely people the three of you are now?”

“Severus, old friend,” Narcissa interrupted quietly. “Won’t you stroll through the gardens with me?” Severus and Narcissa escaped gracefully.

Lucius indicated that his guests and son should sit down, and sat elegantly in a handsome chair. Then he moved directly to answer Harry’s question. Harry was not someone he wanted to annoy.

“Mr. Potter. _I_ want this marriage because I want to merge our bloodlines. I seek the restoration of the Malfoy name and reputation. I want this rebirth to last and extend to the heir of this name, title and estate. Your being ‘friends’ with us would be temporary, effortlessly dismissed or cancelled. Too easily discharged as meaningless. An advertisement in the _Daily Prophet_ would mean even less.

“But marriage and children are permanent. My grandson, the Malfoy heir, will be seen as the son of the greatest hero of the wizarding world – not as the grandson of an incompetent traitor. Your successes will more than overshadow my errors, Potter. Our people will laud your children and love them – even if I am one of their ancestors.”

Lucius paused a moment and sipped brandy while he allowed his words to sink in.

“I always intended to marry Draco off in the most advantageous way possible. When you killed the Dark Lord, you became the best possible spouse for my son.”

Harry listened politely. Remus was surprised at how calmly he was taking in all of this. He realized he’d been expecting Harry to argue with Lucius before Lucius even got a chance to finish speaking.

“Now that’s why we Malfoys are interested in you, but this match has much to offer you as well. There is nowhere more private a residence in all of Great Britain than Malfoy Manor. The press will never bother you at home again if you move in here with Draco. The wards here are ancient, powerful and very effective. Rita Skeeter was able to spy on you at Hogwarts, but she’d never have managed to accomplish that here.”

Harry wanted to interrupt and point out that Draco had been a large part of Skeeter’s spying, but Lucius continued before he could break in.

“You’ll have a vast fortune at your command, to spend as you wish and donate to whatever charities you prefer.

“I’m sure that by now, so many years after the defeat of the Dark Lord, you fully understand that you are expected to walk in a world you’ve never been prepared for. People want you to weigh in on the issues of the day, to influence the Ministry, to sit on the Wizengamot, or to become Supreme Mugwump to the International Confederation. Many hope fervently that you will run for Minister. 

“With Draco’s guidance – and his pretty face – at your side, you can more successfully navigate the politics, the parties, the people – with aplomb. He was raised to master this world exactly as you were _not_. He can help you do as you choose, and make sure no one manipulates you without your knowledge and consent. He can teach you the way things work.

“Even if you decide to remain a quiet, private man, Potter – which I expect you currently wish – you will need help to remain private. I am certain you’ve already been subjected to others’ attempts at political machinations?”

“Yes, actually. Scrimgeour during sixth year comes to mind immediately. Wanted me to hang out at the Ministry as sort of a blank check of approval for his administration.”

“Scrimgeour.” Lucius shook his head a bit ruefully. “ _Not_ a subtle politician. You did well to remain unentangled, but it can’t have been that difficult. With Draco’s assistance, you can be sure to remain above and apart from all such comers, including ones far more subtle and talented than the likes of Rufus Scrimgeour. I am sure you would not appreciate waking up some morning to see a _Daily Prophet_ headline claiming all manner of untrue things about your political beliefs, and who you, personally, endorse to run for Minister of Magic?” Lucius peered sedately at Harry for a moment. “I am sure that most, if not all, of the drivel I already read about you there is fiction?”

“Indeed.”

“Draco could help you with that.” Lucius paused and looked at Harry somewhat speculatively, as though wondering how to phrase what he wanted to say. “Potter, your status in our world right now is enormous. Unparalleled, really. Even when Dumbledore rid us of Grindelwald, he didn’t command the kind of adoration you currently do. Our people want to shower you with love and fulfill your every desire. But strangers are notoriously bad at such things. If you so much as sneeze on someone, they’d make him Minister. You have enormous power right now. Draco can help you wield it the way _you_ want to. He is a Slytherin. He’s good at this. You’re a Gryffindor. You really aren’t.”

Harry listened to Lucius, looked at Draco. He considered the awful fights he’d had with the _Daily Prophet_ over the years. He’d lost most of them. The fights he’d done better with, he could credit to Hermione and Severus. Harry contemplated the awkward relationships he had with his higher-ups in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Some of them couldn’t quite figure out whether he was a subordinate or a saviour. Things only got worse every time he made an important arrest – the fawning, the kowtowing, the pandering. Harry had plenty of talented colleagues but no one got as much recognition as he did. He felt bad about the unappreciated work his coworkers did but he’d yet to learn how to stay out of the limelight.

And every election season was hellish for him – fighting off requests to run for office, to support the campaigns of others, to donate enormous sums to campaigns he didn’t even support…. Over the years, he had attempted to come to terms with his inability to maneuver his way through the world as he wished, but it still rankled.

Harry’s mind refocused on the room he was in, and his eyes fell once again on Draco, sitting in a chair near the fireplace. The clean lines of his neck. The soft fall of his hair. Draco sat in his chair, relaxed, handsome, desirable. His elegant fingers warmed his brandy snifter and his eyes were on Harry. Harry made an abrupt decision.

“I would like to speak with Draco alone, if I may.”

Lucius stood and extended a hand to Remus. “Certainly, Mr. Potter. Mr. Lupin? Would you care to take a walk through my gardens? We can see how our spouses are faring.”

The two men left the room, Remus stopping only to smile warmly and encouragingly at Harry before following Lucius out the door. The door closed with the softest of snicks.

Harry had expected Draco to address him when the other men left, but Draco did nothing. He stayed in his chair and his eyes stayed on Harry. He waited calmly for Harry to act.

Harry felt the weight of years between them. He did not know this man. He might have once known the boy he had been, but he certainly did not know the man. The conversation he had had with Ron and Hermione had really brought that home. As the gorgeous man across the room continued to look at him calmly, Harry decided he wanted to know Draco. He wanted to hear Draco apologize for being an arse at school. He wanted to know what Draco thought of this crazy idea that the two of them should wed. He wanted to know what Draco would look like underneath him, panting in lust, grimacing his ecstasy, wrapping his legs around Harry’s waist, fists twisting in sweaty sheets as Harry slowly drove into him over and over. Yes, he definitely wanted to shag Malfoy. But did he want more? He was willing to find out.

Draco watched Harry carefully, seeing emotions, thoughts and lust play across his face like shadow puppets on a screen. He was more transparent than anyone else Draco knew, and it was astonishing to see. Well-trained to control his appearance, Draco hadn’t been that transparent since he was eight or nine. Curious to see what the man would do, Draco simply waited.

Harry seemed to come to a decision, and he leaned forward, looking intently at Draco. “I have to wonder why you are doing this, Malfoy,” he began. “I’m here primarily out of curiosity, and as a favour to Remus. But you. What motivates you? Are you so loyal to your father that you would tie yourself to me for a hundred years just to make him happy? Or do you have some other agenda? We hated each other as children. Are you looking for a way to humiliate me like you so used to love to do?” 

Harry put down his brandy and stood up. He walked to the fireplace, close to Draco, and took a photo down. He seemed not to see it at all, as he gazed at it briefly and then replaced it. “I just can’t see you as a ‘wife’, you know?” He turned and looked appraisingly at Draco, still sitting calmly in his chair. “I can’t see you running after me, reminding me to wear my warm cloak, clucking after my career and having none of your own, organizing dinner parties and fretting about what to serve and where to seat my boss!”

Harry laughed, and an unkind glint came into his eyes. 

“How funny, really, that after all that happened at Hogwarts, all of our history, Draco Malfoy would come running after me with a bunch of wilting flowers and a wedding ring, begging for my attention.” He leaned over Draco, put a hand on the arm of the other man’s chair, and leered nastily. “How does it feel, Malfoy?”

Draco put his brandy down on the table that awaited it, and steepled his fingers, looking at Harry speculatively, dispassionately. “How does it feel to be a first class jerk?” Draco’s voice was calm, his face tranquil. But his words cut Harry and he stood quickly, looking shocked. Somehow, he hadn’t anticipated Draco striking back. 

“How does it feel,” Draco continued, “to know that the noblest Gryffindor of all is still a scared little boy inside, though he’s now thirty? How does it feel to know that I still rile you past your self-control, by doing nothing but sitting here and sipping brandy?

“I thought you were a Gryffindor, Potter. Noble, honest, pure, and true. I thought you were supposed to be _nice_.” He picked up his brandy again and took a small sip, clearly enjoying the taste of it in his mouth. Harry had a brief flare of desire, wanting to lean over and taste the brandy from Draco’s lips. “Or do those sentiments not apply to those you don’t already know and like? Really, Potter. Why are you treating me so unkindly?”

Harry’s face fell, and Draco carefully hid his sense of accomplishment. He had a long way to go before he could celebrate even his first victory. 

Harry felt awful. Draco was right; he was being a complete arse, and an unsuccessful one, at that. He ran all ten of his fingers through his hair and it stood on end. He looked at the mantelpiece again and then sat, heavily, in the chair closest to Draco. 

“Shit, Draco. You’re right. I am scared. And I apologize. I have a lot of practical reasons to take your father’s proposal seriously, but not all of my reasons are good. And then there’s the fact that some of them _are_ good, which also scares me.”

“Try me, Harry,” Draco said, deliberately using the man’s first name. 

Harry looked into Draco’s eyes for a moment, then stared at the window as he spoke. “Well, really, everything your father said holds some truth. People expect things of me that I don’t want to give, like political involvement. The _Daily Prophet_ still takes advantage of me, and I’m no closer to putting them in their place than I was years ago. And, much as I hate to admit it to Remus and Severus, I’m lonely. And,” Harry took a deep breath and stared off into space for a moment, “you are a very attractive man, Draco.”

“Thank you.” Draco’s voice was warm and quiet. “I can tell it was hard for you to say that.”

“Yes, well, after the way things were between us at Hogwarts I keep expecting a pack of Slytherins to come out from behind your curtains and stupefy me so they can tie me to a Quidditch pole or something equally juvenile and humiliating. Or to sell tickets to watch a Pensieve memory of me telling you that you are, well, desirable. So yes, I’m a little scared. And I took it out on you. Please accept my apology.”

Draco nodded. 

“But you _are_ attractive. That scares me, too. I would love to spend time with you, Draco. Alone. Behind a locked door.”

Harry swallowed. “And then there’s the way I love the idea of sticking it to your father and you, taking advantage of your weakness, your need to come to me for help. And that’s why I can’t do this, Draco. I feel like such a bastard for wanting to take advantage of you!” Harry stood and made an abrupt movement toward the door, and Draco realized he needed to act fast. He stood and placed a hand on Harry’s arm, and Harry stopped immediately. Draco was fairly sure Harry longed to be convinced, which should make convincing him easy.

“Harry. Please don’t feel that one negative feeling is enough to cancel out everything else. I am interested in continuing this beyond tonight. I want this for all the same reasons that my father does, and I’m comfortable with that. I have a duty to my family, and I am very loyal to my family. Don’t let our long-dead schoolboy rivalry derail this before we can see whether or not it will work.” His voice was controlled, quiet. “Please?” He was not begging, but there was the slightest edge of seriousness, of intention. 

Harry still didn’t turn around, but he wasn’t moving away, either. “How can you be comfortable with this?”

“I’ll admit I’m not excited about the prospect of an arranged marriage with someone who isn’t eager to marry me, but I’d always expected my marriage to be arranged, and since I would prefer to marry a man, I’m actually glad that’s on the table. My father wouldn’t have considered a man for me unless the situation was rather dire. From his perspective, that is.”

“Are there any other reasons you’d be willing to marry me, Draco?” Finally Harry turned to face Draco again.

“All the things that make you a good Gryffindor will make you a good husband. I wouldn’t have wanted you as a housemate in Slytherin, and I wouldn’t have chosen you as a lover in my ‘paint the town red’ days, but I am almost thirty-one now and I am very comfortable with the idea of settling down.”

Draco stepped a little closer to Harry. “And wouldn’t you like to do something a little naughty for once?” 

Harry breathed out. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Draco’s hand was still on Harry’s arm, and he trailed the fingers up toward Harry’s bicep. “I mean you said you find me attractive, but here we are alone, behind that locked door you mentioned, and we aren’t doing anything about it.”

Harry turned slightly, getting closer to Draco. His expression changed suddenly. Draco watched as Harry came to a decision. He didn’t have to wait long at all to find out what it was. “That’s true. I like the thought of doing something now. Why don’t you show me that this could become real? Will you prove you can get hard for me?”

Draco allowed himself to appear a bit shocked.

“How would you have me do that?”

“I want you to take off all your clothes and get hard – I want to know you can get hard in my presence.”

“You’ll see an erection through my trousers. And you can’t touch me.”

“No, that won’t do at all. I want to negotiate that. I want to see you with your jumper off. You can keep your trousers on. I’m sure you’re right about an erection being visible through them. And I won’t touch you, except for your hair. And your hands.”

Draco paused to consider Harry’s proposal. He hadn’t expected something this voyeuristic, but he knew the man was going to drool when he saw Draco without a shirt.

“Very well. I accept those terms. But I want to add a time limit. Three minutes. No more. Then I re-robe.” Draco wanted to retain as much control as possible, and keep Harry on a short leash.

“Yes. That’s acceptable.”

Harry sat. Draco stood and moved slowly toward the desk where he planned to place his jumper. 

He got to the desk and leisurely turned halfway toward Harry. He spared a moment to regret wearing a jumper instead of a button down shirt, or anything that could take a long, long time to remove, but he could hardly have known Harry would ask for something so lascivious. He’d been foolishly remembering Harry’s teenage innocence. They were both thirty now. Besides, he looked stunning in this jumper, and he’d seen that in Harry’s eyes the moment the man had walked into the Manor.

So, banishing the regret, Draco slowly untucked his whisper-thin jumper from the waistband of his silk trousers. Once it was fully released, Draco slowly crossed his arms around his chest, down to the edge of the jumper. He hoped that he looked like he was hugging himself from Harry’s angle. 

Harry shifted in his chair, uncrossing his legs.

“Don’t worry, we can start the clock once this is actually off.”

Harry nodded his acceptance.

Draco grabbed the edges of his jumper and, as slowly as he dared, pulled it off, knowing that his actions would reveal, slowly, his navel, toned stomach, abdominals, pecs, shoulders. 

Harry sat on his chair, trying to look composed, and failing thoroughly. 

He deliberately turned slightly further toward Harry while the jumper obscured his face. He looked particularly good from the side; he knew that from studying himself in the mirror. And he loved the idea of Harry staring openly while Draco couldn’t see the other man’s eyes. 

_That’s it, Harry…_ he thought to himself. _Stare while I can’t see you do it. Take advantage of my vulnerability so I can make you feel guilty for it later._

Finally, the blond was shirtless. He gracefully folded his jumper and placed it on his father’s desk. He stroked the cashmere gently, as though removing a wrinkle. Only then did he turn and take two steps toward the other man. He did not move any closer.

Harry stood up quickly and moved near enough to take Draco’s hand. He kissed it and Draco raised an eyebrow. 

“You look… magnificent, Draco.”

“Of course I do.”

“You, er, work out?”

“Yes.”

“I want to touch your hair.”

“We agreed that you could.”

Harry stepped behind Draco. He was almost close enough to touch, close enough that Draco could feel the heat rising from his body, but he didn’t touch Draco yet. _Who knew the man could tease so well?_ Draco wondered. Finally, Harry ran his hands through Draco’s hair.

Draco’s cock started to react. 

Harry murmured “Are you hard for me, Draco?” and stroked Draco’s hair. 

Draco refused to give Harry a verbal reaction, but he was mostly hard. Getting harder. Harry breathed on his neck.

“I like your hair this way. If I marry you, I will want you to keep your hair long. Will you agree to that?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent.” 

_Really,_ Draco thought. _This man is such an unnerving combination of self-assured war hero and insecure little boy._

Harry walked around to stand in front of Draco. He slowly looked down Draco’s length – starting at his eyes, lingering on his lips, staring avidly at Draco’s neck, clearly moving his eyes from there to Draco’s left nipple, then looking at his right nipple. Harry slid his eyes down Draco’s abdomen, to the bulge in his trousers. “Draco,” he murmured sexily, “I think you’ve gotten hard for me. Is it really for me, though?” Harry raised his eyes to Draco’s. “How do I know you aren’t thinking about another man?”

Draco said nothing. He realized suddenly that they were essentially the same height. He decided this pleased him.

“I know what we agreed to, Draco, but I think I am going to need just a touch… more… proof.”

Harry took Draco’s right hand in his again, and this time he put it on his own hip. He laced his fingers through the fingers of Draco’s left hand. He stepped in as close as he could get without actually touching Draco elsewhere. His right hand slipped off his own hip, onto Draco’s clothed hip. 

“Is this all right, Draco?”

Draco didn’t trust his voice to stay cool. He nodded once, somewhat curtly.

“I think I might like to dance with you sometime, Draco. Do you dance well?”

Draco looked into Harry’s eyes. _Is Harry serious? Is he teasing? Is he flirting?_ Draco was so busy working to control his facial expression and body language that he really didn’t know. Distracted, preoccupied, he stepped closer to Harry as if to dance, wanting to lead, and realized quickly that now his erection was pressing into Harry’s erection. Excitement and arousal exploded in Draco’s gut. He couldn’t control himself anymore, and an attempt to tell Harry that he was an excellent dancer turned into a moan of longing.

Harry stopped pretending to follow the rules of the encounter. He pressed his lips to Draco’s. He opened his mouth and licked Draco’s lower lip. Draco’s mouth opened and their tongues touched. Harry grabbed Draco’s arse and pulled him in. They rubbed their clothed cocks into one another, and Draco felt like the room was spinning. He grabbed Harry’s hair and tilted Harry’s head up, licking, sucking, biting Harry’s neck. He couldn’t stop making little noises of pleasure and longing. When did he step onto a merry-go-round? He thought he would get nauseous if he didn’t hold on tightly to Harry. 

He had wanted to kiss this man for years. He was no longer keeping his cool by any stretch of the imagination. He kept his mouth busy with kisses and bites, because he was terrified of what would pour out of his mouth should he allow words to emerge. He would certainly declare himself entranced, aroused, eager… but also smitten, infatuated, utterly besotted. He shut down any thoughts that led to the inevitability of this snog session ever ending – an irrational part of him wanted to stand here, in this room, rubbing his cock against Harry’s, and plundering Harry’s mouth, until the sun destroyed the earth and time itself ended. 

This wasn’t the way he’d intended to seduce Harry into the marriage bed, but he could not possibly stop himself. Until he came, or Harry pulled away, Draco knew he would be attached to Harry. His lips would be on Harry’s skin, his hands would be on Harry’s chest, or back, or sweet Moses, Harry’s nipples – for Draco had yanked Harry’s shirt out of his trousers and was stroking Harry’s smooth, muscular body. And, thank Merlin, Harry seemed to feel the same way. He was kissing Draco and his hands were all over Draco’s back and arse. And his hands were large, and strong, and a little rough. The hands of a man who worked for a living, who didn’t indulge in creams and manicures. Masculine hands. Draco moaned his appreciation of Harry’s hands and pressed himself firmly into Harry’s torso and pelvis.

But suddenly Harry’s kisses were slowing down. He was not so much stroking Draco’s back as he was running his palms downwards, in a calming manner. He wasn’t pulling away, but he stopped frotting against Draco. Draco gave Harry one last intense, passionate, open-mouthed kiss, and then stilled himself. It took every milligram of self-control he could find, but he managed it.

“Draco,” Harry rasped out. His voice was low, intense, full of suppressed desire. He sounded like he was barely in control.

“Harry,” Draco responded. He noted silently that his voice was as raspy as Harry’s. Draco felt sure he should say something, but nothing came to mind other than “come back,” and he knew that wouldn’t further his agenda. He rested his forehead on Harry’s and hooked his thumbs through two of Harry’s belt-loops. He wanted Harry to bend him over a sturdy chair. He wanted Harry to push him down to the floor. He wanted Harry to tear the clothes from his body and take him without even asking. He wanted Harry. He wanted Harry to want him; he was pretty sure Harry did, except they weren’t kissing any more. He waited for Harry to say something.

“Will you have dinner with me?” Harry’s hands were resting on Draco’s narrow hips.

“A… date? You want to go on a date? With me?”

He realized he sounded like a moron. But Harry was still touching him and he couldn’t quite be arsed to care right then. Draco was pretty sure, however, that once Harry Flooed home he would feel compelled to pick over every moment of this encounter with a fine-tooth comb and a genius for self-flagellation. 

“Yes, Draco. A date. Does that really seem so odd to you? After all, we’re considering marriage, here. Don’t you think a date makes sense?” Harry ran a thumb over Draco’s left cheekbone.

Draco looked Harry right in the eye and then looked away. Draco couldn’t believe how completely he had lost his self-control. He muttered, “I should like to retain a bit of my dignity here.”

Harry misunderstood. 

“Draco, your father is doing what amounts to selling you to the highest bidder. I think the way you retain your dignity in a situation like this is by simply behaving like a dignified person. Going on a date with me is the most sensible thing to do here. Let’s both pretend our parents have nothing to do with this. Who knows? Perhaps we can find a way to make everyone happy.”

Draco looked at him, astonished. He could not care less if this made anyone else in the universe happy. But Harry misunderstood him again.

“Or if not happy, then content. Perhaps satisfied?”

Draco decided that explaining himself was pointless and possibly detrimental to his plans, anyway. “All right Harry. I suppose that makes sense.”

“Good. I’ll pick you up at eight on Friday night, a week from tomorrow?”

Draco nodded.

“Please dress for a nice restaurant.” Harry headed for the Floo and tossed in the Floo powder. He called out “Number Twenty-seven Churchill Circle,” turned to Draco, and said, “Oh, yes. Please wear something sexy under your trousers.” He winked once and then he was gone.

Draco calmly sought his jumper. He knew vaguely that he had carefully removed it, folded it, placed it on a surface somewhere. He located it. Quietly pulled it on. Tucked it in. Straightened the collar. He walked out of the room, quietly, at a measured pace, walked back to his apartment within the family wing. Once inside, he closed the door. Locked it. 

He undressed carefully, placing his clothes, shoes and jewelry where they belonged. He went to his bathroom and brushed his teeth, washed his face and moisturized his face and hands. He donned silk pyjamas and got into bed. Paused for a moment and picked up his wand. Then he warded his door strongly against entry by anyone for the next twenty minutes or so. Not even a house-elf could get in until those wards began to weaken. 

Then Draco removed a dildo and some lubricant from his bedside table. He lay back in his bed, hands around his cock and balls, charmed dildo crashing into him, and remembered kissing Harry, the touch of Harry’s fingers on his face, being held in Harry’s arms. He proceeded to wank himself nearly raw, then fell peacefully asleep, the dildo abandoned next to him in the silk sheets. That night, he dreamed of Harry’s lips, Harry’s hands, and the feeling of Harry’s erection pressing and rubbing into his own.

The next morning he doubled his meditation, Ta’i Chi and wandless levitation exercises. He would not lose control like that again. He was going to seduce Harry into marriage and he was going to do it his way. He wanted Harry wrapped around _his_ little finger, damnit, not the other way around.

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Harry went home and wanked himself nearly raw also. He imagined the scene in the room going very differently, and came as he imagined himself coming hard into Draco’s arse, as Draco pleaded with him to fuck him _harder, Harry, please… harder_. 

Harry, however, did not fall into a blissful sleep. He went for a late night run around the park near his house, almost hoping some Muggle would try to rob him so he would have the opportunity to scream and hex. When he got home, he showered quickly and put on old boxers and a t-shirt Dudley had outgrown as a teenager. It was ancient, too wide by half, hole-filled and butter-soft. Harry picked up a book but minutes later put it down again, having absorbed nothing.

Frustrated, he went to have a talk with one of his oldest friends. One who kept secrets better than anyone else he had ever known.

“Hedwig? Are you home?”

She was sitting on her perch in her room. She blinked at him, turned to look at him. He sat at the small correspondence desk he kept there. 

“I want him, old girl. I can’t pretend anymore that I don’t.” 

Hedwig merely continued to look at him.

“And I wasn’t fooling anyone, apparently. Ron, Hermione, Remus and Severus… they all knew I fancied him.” Harry stood and walked to the window. He looked out over the park where Hedwig usually hunted at this hour. He was glad she was home right now.

“I want his body, Hedwig. I want to touch him, fuck him, and maybe even make love to him. And I can believe I’ll want him this way for years – though that could just be the lust talking. Still, the idea of taking him off the market and having him all to myself is very, very appealing. Right now the thought of someone else touching him sexually makes me very angry.”

Hedwig gave a little cluck with her beak. Harry looked at her briefly, then turned back to look out the window.

“But what about the mind, the personality, the soul, the man? I’ve listened to everything Remus and Lucius have to say, and you know, a lot of their ideas have real merit. Though I can’t trust Lucius not to manipulate me politically. I don’t think that is Draco’s goal, however.”

Hedwig flew to Harry’s shoulder and nipped encouragingly at his hair. He petted her absently.

“So what _are_ Draco’s goals? Is he really just trying to obey his father, shore up the Malfoy name? Or does he have some other agenda?”

Harry sighed and when Hedwig nipped his ear he petted her feathers with a bit more intent. 

“Can I trust him, Hedwig? I’ll talk to him about this, about not wanting him or Lucius to manipulate me, but am I savvy enough to play this game without getting screwed over? I’ve never been good at this sort of thing. I’m a little better than I used to be, but if I’ve improved at this over the past ten years then Draco’s gotten ten times better than that. I know Lucius was right about them being born to this and me being inept.”

Hedwig clucked at him again, as though to say, “Continue, please.” He petted her again and sighed deeply.

“But who am I kidding, eh, girl? I’ve already asked him out on a date, and therefore I’m courting him, whether I think it’s a good idea or not. On the other hand, there’s no timetable here. Even if this _is_ a courtship, they can’t force me to fall in love with, or marry the man. I can talk to Draco about the political stuff and see how I feel about the honesty of his answer. My instincts are pretty good even if my political skills are for shit. I’ll just have to figure out what to do about marriage later. There’s no way I’m going to give up on the courtship now. I want into his pants far, far too desperately. And isn’t that a strange turn, eh, girl?” 

Harry laughed softly and Hedwig nipped his hair affectionately one more time before flying out the window charmed for her alone to use as her personal access to and from the flat.

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	3. Chapter Three: Flowers, Dinner, and… mud?

At eight on the dot Friday evening, Harry was standing in a reception room in Malfoy Manor, holding flowers and watching Draco walk in, wearing a Muggle suit that was exactly right for a very nice restaurant. 

“You look very handsome, Draco.”

“Thank you, Harry. You look nice also.”

“A house-elf led me here. I haven’t seen anyone else. I brought your mother some flowers. Is she here?”

“No.” Draco snapped his fingers and a house-elf appeared. “She and Father wanted to give us a bit of privacy.” Draco motioned at the flowers Harry was holding and the house-elf conjured up a vase with water. Draco went to take the bouquet from Harry, discovering that there were actually two bouquets. The house-elf immediately conjured up a second vase.

“This bouquet is for you, Draco.”

Draco looked more carefully at the two bouquets, surprised and pleased. His mother’s bouquet was attractive, but impersonal. Daffodils to symbolize respect, with some ferns to symbolize sincerity. The flowers that Harry had brought for Draco, however, had very different meanings indeed. Several stalks of beautiful red amaryllis represented pride and timidity, both. A bit of bright yellow forsythia, to symbolize anticipation. Some red hyacinth, to suggest play, and some yellow, to signify jealousy – how interesting. And then, hiding in the center of all that Gryffindor red and yellow, a bit of white coriander, to indicate lust.

“Harry…” Draco’s fingers lingered on a stiff red amaryllis petal. “Do you know the language of flowers, or do you have an extraordinary florist?”

Harry turned slightly pink behind his glasses.

“Neville helped me. It, er, it took a while to get it all just right. I’m glad you noticed. Neville kept telling me you would.”

“Yes, most pureblood families hold to the old-fashioned niceties like this. I’m glad you went to Neville for help. Some of the modern guides have incorrect interpretations of their meanings.” His fingers trailed the edge of the vase, and he leaned in to smell his flowers. The sprig of coriander made him smile again. “I do wonder about one of the flowers, though.”

Harry was still standing right where Draco had left him. He already looked awkward and slightly out of place. Draco’s statement didn’t ease his mind at all. He didn’t speak, simply looked at Draco and waited for the question.

“Red hyacinth is play, and I assume you mean playfulness, having fun?” 

Harry nodded and seemed to relax a bit. “I hope we can enjoy this, not feel pressured by other people’s expectations or timetables.”

“So what did you mean by including yellow hyacinth, then?” Draco saw that his ploy had worked. He’d thrown Harry off balance by stating he wondered about one flower and then asking about two. Of course, they were both hyacinth. Draco tried not to smirk.

Harry was trying not to stare in horror. That was two questions, dammit! Still. He knew it was a good question. Neville had been most surprised at Harry’s request for a flower that symbolized jealousy.

Unable to bullshit his way through this, as Draco had caught him so off guard, Harry struggled not to stammer out his very truthful answer. “If we do this, Draco, I will want you all to myself. People often forget there is a difference between envy and jealousy. I was careful to choose a symbol of jealousy. If we court, if we take this seriously, I’m going to be jealous of your time and affection and interest. I’m going to want you all to myself. I am _not_ going to be willing to share you.”

Draco dropped his lovely flowers carelessly into the second vase and took a step toward Harry. He extended his hands toward Harry, who took them both. “I do believe I understand,” the blond said in a voice rich with hidden meaning. “Shall we go, then?” And he stepped into the circle of Harry’s arms so Harry could Apparate them away.

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The restaurant turned out to be just outside a lovely little northern Irish hamlet on the Atlantic. Draco was impressed. Not every wizard could Apparate another adult Side-Along over such a distance without batting an eyelash, but Harry behaved as though they’d traveled a dozen miles, not nearly five hundred. 

The hostess greeted them respectfully but unobtrusively. The owner was summoned and he quietly promised Harry that no one knew they were there, and that a private dining room was awaiting them. 

Their table was spectacular. The sun was setting pink and orange fire into the ocean as they sat down. The owner of the restaurant was planning to wait on them himself, to assure their privacy. They were left alone with their menus and the view for a moment while the owner sought the wine list. 

Draco suddenly realized that he was on a date with the most famous wizard in the world, and he worked to school his features. His appearance mustn’t give anything away. He was no groupie.

“Draco, I’d like you to order everything tonight, if you would. Food and wine.”

Draco was amused. “Is this a test, Potter?”

“Why yes, Draco.” Harry’s smile looked only slightly wrong. “I suppose you could interpret it that way. Your father is trying to sell you as a political wife, and as such, this would be right up your alley, wouldn’t it?”

Draco smiled graciously and began to peruse the menu. He asked Harry a few questions about his preferences, and when the owner returned with the wine list, Harry listened silently with a pleased smile while the other two men discussed the meal, appetizer through dessert, and several different wines. 

The food and wine began to arrive quickly, and Draco was pleased. Everything was delicious.

At first the men felt slightly awkward, but the food was wonderful and the wine warming. After the appetizers were devoured, Harry managed to ask Draco something he’d wondered for years. Had Draco had a rotten childhood?

Draco tried not to answer with a voice full of scorn. “What, so you can save me from it? You just can’t stop saving people, can you, hero?” Draco smiled in what he hoped was a warm and flirtatious manner, despite his annoyance. “No, I had a perfectly nice childhood. Why do you think I didn’t faint around the Dementors the way you did? No one raped me or beat me or cast the Cruciatus on me, Potter. My parents loved me, and the house-elves took good care of me.”

Harry’s face softened, like he was happy to hear that Draco’s childhood was nice. Then he looked confused. “So why were you such a bastard to me at school?”

Draco teased the rim of his wine glass with the very tip of a finger. “Get me drunker and maybe I’ll tell you.”

They talked of superficial things while they ate the main course. Draco learned more about the politics and paperwork of Magical Law Enforcement. Harry seemed interested in Draco’s potions research.

Harry asked again later, as dessert was arriving. Draco replied, “Harry, I was a jerk from the first moment because I was the person I was taught to be, but it didn’t take long before I was a jerk because I had an enormous crush on you and I knew nothing pleasant would ever come of it.”

“Funny you should be telling me that on our first date.”

“Oh, do you think this date is pleasant?” But Draco was smiling with his eyes as he said it.

Harry smiled back flirtatiously and changed the subject to their desserts.

%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%

The privacy the restaurant owner had promised them was unbreached, but eventually they would have to leave the restaurant. Draco could tell Harry did not want their evening to end yet. Going anywhere risked exposure, but Draco felt sure it would be worth it. Pleased with how well things were going already, Draco gave Harry some subtle signals, trying to manipulate him into asking for more of Draco’s time. He toyed with the rim of his glass, trailed fingertips along the tablecloth – almost touching Harry’s hand – and licked his lips once when he saw Harry looking at his mouth. He was fairly sure he would have Harry eating out of his hand any minute.

When Harry had paid the bill, Draco stood and moved to step within the circle of Harry’s arms again. Harry wrapped his arms around Draco and pressed himself briefly into Draco’s body before pulling his hips away. Draco was very pleased to discover that Harry was hard. Draco, of course, was not, and he was again grateful for the Celibacy Charm that kept him that way. He knew there was no way he’d be anything other than rock-hard without it. They stood there for a moment, not going anywhere.

“Harry?”

“Mmm?” Harry seemed to be smelling Draco’s hair.

“Were you going to Apparate me home?” He wondered if he should pull away enough to look Harry in the face, but felt passivity was his best choice. And Harry felt nice anyway.

“Mmmm. Your hair smells nice. I’m trying to figure out if there is somewhere else I can bring you. I really don’t want to say goodbye yet.”

Draco pulled his face away from Harry’s neck and shoulder to look at his eyes. He took his hand from Harry’s waist and touched Harry’s sleeve. “Take me dancing,” he said quietly. “There’s a gay dance club in wizarding Galway we could try. I’ve never been there.”

“Yess…” Harry breathed. “I’ve been wanting to dance with you.”

They Flooed to the club, and perhaps that was when someone overheard where they were and alerted the _Daily Prophet_. Or perhaps they were just unlucky. Whatever the cause, they hadn’t been at the club long at all when the press arrived.

They were so caught up in dancing with one another that they were surrounded by reporters and blinded by flashbulbs before they noticed that anything was out of the ordinary. Harry pulled Draco even closer and Apparated them away without a word, but apparently many of the reporters and photographers had cast Tracking Charms, for they weren’t alone on the street corner for more than a moment. One of the reporters skidded as she landed in a mud puddle, and Draco was splashed.

“I’m sorry, Draco. I should have taken us somewhere else. They caught me off guard. Let me see if I can get rid of them.”

The reporters began shouting and Harry raised a hand, sidling surreptitiously in front of Draco as he stepped a bit closer to the press. “I will make a statement, you will not take any more photographs, and then my friend and I will go somewhere you will not be able to follow us.” He paused to see one or two reporters nod and a photographer put down her camera. That certainly wasn’t all of them, but it appeared to be enough for Harry. 

“You interrupted me spending time with an old schoolmate, Draco Malfoy.”

“He appears to mean more than that to you, Harry!” one reporter yelled.

Harry glared at the reporter, and the man shrank back a bit. Draco could see that Harry might be lousy with politics, but he was fine with straightforward intimidation tactics.

“Mr. Malfoy is my friend. My godfather’s husband is a dear friend of Mr. Malfoy’s parents, Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy. Mr. Malfoy and I have known one another for many years and I appreciate being able to spend time with friends _without_ press accompaniment or interference. We will now be leaving, and you will not be able to follow us, so these Tracking Charms are no longer of use to you.” Harry raised his wand and made a slashing motion in the air. A tangle of glowing lines of magic suddenly became visible on his upswing, and on his downswing they tore and wilted into mist, which sank to the sidewalk and dissipated into nothing. “Good evening.”

And with that, Harry backed up into Draco, who put his arms around Harry instinctively. Harry grabbed Draco’s forearms and without a word, he Apparated them away. 

Draco found himself in a decent enough room, apparently a lounge. Harry turned around and backed away slightly as he did so. Draco already missed him, but was careful not to show it. “I apologize for that, Draco. I’m not sure how they found us. It’s been like that for, well, since I got rid of Tom, really.”

Draco blinked in confusion for a moment before he remembered that Harry meant the Dark Lord.

“I would dearly love to know how to get them off my back, permanently.” He smiled. “Perhaps you can help me with that.” Harry pulled away from Draco even further and wrinkled his nose at Draco’s trousers. “And one of them even got mud all over you. Come with me. You shouldn’t have to be uncomfortable and muddy.”

Harry led Draco to what appeared to be a second floor ensuite guest bedroom. At the door, Harry called out “Winky?” and a house-elf appeared. 

“Master Harry?” she queried.

“Winky. Thank you. This is Draco Malfoy. We were running from reporters and one of them got his nice pants all muddy. Can you clean them while he showers?”

“Yes, Master Harry. Winky is always happy to clean.”

“Great. He’ll leave them on the bedroom floor then, and you can put them on the bed when you are done.”

Winky nodded once and vanished.

“I hope that sounds all right with you, Draco. I’d loan you something but I think we are different sizes and my clothes aren’t nice enough for you, anyway.” Harry said this without a trace of teasing or irony in his voice. Draco was surprised to see that Harry simply meant it.

“I’ll give you your privacy then.” 

Draco allowed a note of disappointment to enter as he replied, “Oh?” but he did not protest otherwise as Harry walked out and closed the door. Draco sighed and began to strip. After sweating in his warm suit at the dance club and getting splashed with mud he _was_ glad to have a shower. He simply would have preferred to share it. But he enjoyed the steaming water and the camellia-scented shampoo in Harry’s bathroom. He removed the Celibacy Charm and watched as his cock swiftly rose with blood and heat. He stroked himself experimentally once and it felt good, but it couldn’t compare to what he wanted. And why not want him? Why couldn’t he have Potter? He was stark naked under a steaming spray of water in Harry’s home.

Draco allowed pictures of what he wanted to fill his mind. He stroked his cock idly, wanting only to tease himself, as he imagined Harry walking into the bathroom, naked, smiling, green eyes dancing. He imagined turning off the water, seeing Harry waiting there for him, with a fluffy towel, wearing nothing at all. He imagined Harry saying “I hope you got… very clean.”

Then Draco imagined he was on the guest bed, on his back, with Harry half on top of him. He continued to fist his cock, more firmly now, as he pictured Harry’s hand on him in place of his own. In his fantasy, their tongues explored each other’s mouths again, like that day in his house, only there was no clothing to get in the way, and Harry’s hand was touching his cock, no, his balls, or maybe behind them… how much would Harry tease? Would he drag things out for long, long minutes, make Draco beg? Or would he be desperate to fuck Draco and too turned on to wait and linger?

Draco knew that there would be only one first time. Would it be sweet? Would it be agonizingly slow and tender? Would it be as fierce and hot as sin itself? Would it feel like magic, curling around his soul and filling him along with Harry?

And what would Harry’s cock look like? As much as he wanted Harry, he knew he would be disappointed if Harry’s cock was small, or ugly. Draco preferred his men uncut and hoped Harry, like Draco and most British wizards, was uncut. But a cut cock, he reflected, can also have its own special beauty. 

The shower’s hot, pleasing spray hit Draco in the face and chest as he leaned against the back wall of Harry’s shower and imagined Harry’s cock, whatever it might look like, sliding slowly into his arse for the very first, brilliant, time. He imagined himself on his hands and knees, a position he often liked, choosing that image in part because he couldn’t quite picture Harry’s cock. Harry’s face twisted into sweet tortured ecstasy was also eluding him, as he’d never seen it like that. 

But he could imagine Harry holding tightly onto him, fucking him hard and rough and deep, giving him everything, holding nothing back. He could imagine gripping the duvet in his fists, mewling like a cat and groaning and panting in lust. He could imagine Harry’s voice in his ear, telling him what a delicious little fuck he was, how he longed to bend him over every surface in the house, what a pretty little slut he was going to become, always ready for Harry’s cock and Harry’s cock alone. 

Draco moaned with longing as his fantasy bit his neck and panted “Mine!” into his ear. He was fisting his cock in earnest now, and would probably come all over the shower stall soon.

Except suddenly the real Harry was there, completely naked, pulling open the shower door, stepping into the spray, leaning over and around Draco. “You’re broadcasting like a bloody wireless, you realize. You are going to kill me with those thoughts.” And he sucked Draco’s lower lip into his mouth and bit down gently.

Draco moaned. Loudly. Their cocks were pressing into each other and all Draco wanted was for Harry to press him into the wall and shove that cock deep into his center, no matter how ugly or small it might be. Fuck the slow tease, fuck self-control, he knew what he wanted and he would have it. As soon as possible. 

“I need you inside me before I burst into flames” he managed, as Harry frotted into him forcefully and laved his jawline. “Potter – Harry – I need you. I need you now!”

“Patience, beautiful man.” Harry was damn near purring. “Nothing short of _both_ our deaths will keep me from having you tonight. But I plan to have you for hours, till you are so sated you can’t keep your eyes open, so sore you can hardly walk.”

Draco whined his desperation. 

Harry pulled Draco up and around his waist and carried him out of the shower, not even bothering to turn off the water. Kissing Draco in earnest, and carrying a man his own height as though the blond’s weight were negligible, he made his way out of the guest bedroom and across the hall into a larger room with a grand, curtained, four poster bed. Draco barely registered his surroundings at all. 

Harry placed Draco on the bed and crawled on after him. Draco backed up, vaguely aware that they were still wet from the shower and not caring at all. The look in Harry’s eyes was all Draco could think about. The man looked positively hungry. 

“Oh, Draco, I’ve been fantasizing about you for years. I’m going to make this last as long as I possibly can.”

“If you make it last that long, Harry, I really _will_ self-destruct.” Draco opened his arms, hoping Harry would snuggle up next to him and maximize the skin contact. “Can we compromise?”

“Sure,” Harry grinned. And he stopped halfway up Draco’s body and took most of Draco’s cock into his mouth with no warning.

“Nnnnnggggghhhhh!!” Draco bleated. His back and open arms slammed into the bed and he grabbed at the fabric. _Fuck!_ Conscious thought was a distant memory. There was nothing but hot, wet, sucking, swirling, teasing brilliance around hard, demanding, needy, swollen flesh. Draco was helpless to do anything but feel. When Harry inserted a finger into his arse and crooked it gently, he exploded into Harry’s throat like a runaway train.

“There now, can you be patient with me as I explore you?”

Draco tried to manage a witty answer, something clever, worthy of a Malfoy, or at least worthy of that mind-blowing orgasm he’d just experienced. All he could say, however, was, “Guh.”

Harry, as it turned out, was perfectly satisfied with “guh.” Actually, Draco hazily discerned, he seemed to appreciate that answer a great deal. He acquiesced passively as Harry rolled him over onto his belly, wondering what the man would do next.

Harry had apparently really meant it about exploring Draco and making it last. He seemed remarkably unconscious of his own erection as he began at Draco’s feet. First he rubbed them, then he explored each toe with his mouth. Draco had never before been so grateful not to have ticklish feet. Harry’s mouth felt incredible on his toes. Harry’s tongue and fingers then investigated both of Draco’s arches. Harry discovered Draco’s calves and knees and thighs so slowly that Harry was already touching his arse before he realized that the other man had been spreading his legs further and further apart. He gasped as hot breath heated his cheeks, and fingers spread them apart. He felt Harry’s tongue swipe his arse experimentally, and had a sudden memory of Harry saying, “I hope you got very clean,” in his shower fantasy. Harry licked Draco’s arse once, twice, three times, and then a finger entered him. His patience grew thinner and he whined once. 

Harry’s voice was warm and provocative. “I’m going to make you come at least three times tonight. And I think you might be ready for the second one, mmm?” And suddenly Harry was encouraging Draco to roll onto his back, never removing the finger from Draco’s arse. Draco worked his legs around Harry’s body, and once he was on his back again, Harry was sliding up his body, adding lube as he worked fingers partway out and then shoving them in harder. Once he was able to reach them, Harry began to bite Draco’s nipples, first one, then the other, then back again. All the while his fingers were working teasingly in and out of Draco’s arse. 

It all felt so intense, so screamingly good. Draco could only be patient through this for so long. Finally he said “I really want you to fuck me.”

Harry lifted his head from Draco’s red nipple and looked him in the eye. “And I want to fuck you. And I _will_ fuck you. But I am not going to put my cock into your arse until I am so hungry for you that I can’t hold off another moment.”

“Fine then. But I have to warn you. If that’s your plan, I’m going to play dirty.” And with that Draco reached for his own cock, which was again completely erect. He stroked it, milking it for precome, which he attempted to spread onto Harry’s chest. “I came like a Hippogriff earlier, but I’m already hard for you again, Harry. And at our age. Do you know what you do to me?” Harry had returned his mouth to Draco’s nipple and Draco rolled toward Harry to press his chest and cock into Harry’s skin. “Feel this cock, Harry.” Harry groaned quietly. “That’s right, Potter. I’ve been getting under your skin for years. No one could rile you like I could. And now you get to pay me back. I want you,” and he kissed Harry’s hair, “to bang me, Harry. I want you to fuck me till all I can see is stars. I want your cock.” He kissed Harry’s temple, as he couldn’t contort himself to reach anything lower. “I want your big hard cock, Harry. I want it in me, hard and fast and rough and deep and ooohhhh…” Harry had slid a third and fourth finger into Draco’s arse, and the man had completely lost his train of thought. He hadn’t been fisted in a long time and he wasn’t sure he was ready for it, but they were awfully close to it and the slight burn of pain was an exquisite compliment to the pleasure.

Harry lifted his head from Draco’s nipple to look him in the face.

“Draco. Open your eyes.” Draco obeyed. “Good man.” And Harry’s smile was filled with power and heat. He continued to thrust in and out of Draco’s arse with his hand, but less forcefully now. “A man like you, I assume you know all about domination and submission games?” Draco felt the prickle of heat in his cheeks. Clearly there was a great deal to Harry that he had never imagined. “If we are going to court, you have to know that I am in charge in the bedroom. You don’t have to call me Master, you don’t need a safeword unless you want one, we don’t need to be that formal. But in bed, you are mine. I want you passive, I want you to follow my lead. I want you to do what I tell you, and take what I give you.” Harry was punctuating his sentences with his fingers. Using the fucking motions to emphasize his words.

Draco thought he could feel an orgasm coming from Harry’s words and fingers alone. Topped and topped. By Harry Potter. It was a damn good thing he was already lying down, because he felt slightly faint with the desire and longing that Harry’s words were inspiring.

“Do you understand me, Malfoy?” And he emphasized the surname with a deep shove into Draco’s arse.

Draco felt honesty was the best policy. “Whether or not I understand every nuance of what you mean, I accept your terms and I want you still. I want to take what you give me, Harry. I want to beg for it. I want to please you and I want to be your pleasure toy. I know your cock must be aching with need. Won’t you please climb onto me and take your pleasure in my body? I know you know how much I want you. Somehow you saw the fantasy I had in the shower, though I don’t understand how. But you know I want your cock. Tell me how to please you and I’ll give you everything I have to give.”

Harry’s hand had stilled in Draco’s arse and Harry was staring into Draco’s eyes. “You will, won’t you?” he said. “I can see it in your eyes. You want to submit. You want me to use you for my pleasure.”

Draco couldn’t stop a moan of desire and longing from escaping his throat. Finally, Harry stopped trying to make it last. He pulled his fingers out of Draco’s arse and lubed his cock. He put Draco’s ankles on his shoulders. He lined up his cock and pressed in the very tip. Then he stopped moving and put his clean hand on Draco’s face. 

“I want you to know,” he said, sounding sincere and completely in control, “that no matter what happens with the rest, with your parents and my parents and their hopes and expectations and all that bullshit, I want you to know that you turn me on something chronic, and I’ve wanted you for ages.” And then he pushed into Draco in one long, fast, hard stroke. 

Draco could do nothing but take it. He wanted to make it good for Harry, he wanted to be a fantastic lay and have Harry wrapped around his finger and begging for more and coming back on his knees but fuck! Not even Draco could be calculating at a moment like this. 

All he could do was grab Harry’s cock with his arse, grab Harry’s waist with his hands, and hang on for the ride of a lifetime. Harry was sweating and he smelled good. Hearty, strong, masculine and a little musky. Whatever Harry’s cock might look like, it fit so tightly in his arse that all Draco could do was moan and whine. _Damn_ he loved a good hard fucking. 

Largely unaware of himself, he began to babble phrases of pleasure to Harry. “Fuck me, yes, oh Merlin, so good, fuck me so hard, there, right there, oh fuck, make me _yours_ ….”

Harry wrapped his lube-covered hand around Draco’s cock and began to pull on him; the rhythm was fast and hard, and Draco was in a heaven of sensation and fulfilled longings. How many times had he worn his most flattering Muggle clothes and handsomest wizard robes to a Ministry dinner, and worked his tail off to get Harry’s eyes on his arse? How many months had he spent manipulating his father into sending that letter to Lupin? How many invitations had he wangled to parties where Harry’s friends would see him, simply so he could be polite to them, ask after their parents, coo at their babies, go out of his way to be gracious, hoping Harry would hear of it? 

And finally it had paid off, with Draco on his back on Harry Potter’s bed, and Harry’s apparently very thick cock driving him to the brink and soon beyond.

Draco’s babbling continued in the rhythm of Harry’s hard pace as he gripped Harry’s strong hips: “fuck me, oh Harry, fuck me… hard, give me everything, take me, take what you… need, use me, you feel… so… good, I want to… come, oh fuck, I want to come, oh fucking… hell, I want to come, Harry? Harry can I… come?”

Harry drove hard and slow into Draco now, still taking his arse deep, wanking his cock for him and bending him near in half. He opened his eyes and looked at Draco, whose eyes were already open. Draco could sense that by asking permission to come he had pleased Harry greatly. He’d not done it as a calculated decision or a manipulative ploy, but simply as the natural and automatic response to Harry (not to mention the speech he’d given earlier about passivity and submission). 

He stared back into Harry’s eyes and wondered again at where he found himself. He was one lucky bastard. But luck wasn’t enough. He needed to reinvest his luck and earn interest. He needed to play this turn of events for all it was worth. So Harry was naturally dominant and he was naturally submissive? Or at least, he was when he was in Harry’s arms. Not to mention he got hard simply by thinking about the man. And the man seemed able to read his sexual fantasies like a book. 

He would play this game to every advantage he had and win. He was going to win big, and the grand prize was staring deeply into his eyes and fucking his arse deep into the mattress. It was time to play dirty.

Draco pictured himself spread eagled on the bed, tied to the bedposts with Gryffindor ties and blindfolded as the cherry on top. Harry was fucking deep and slow into him in the fantasy, just exactly as he was in reality. He simply added the delightful loss of control that bondage added. He put that image into the front of his mind and closed his eyes to concentrate on the image and the pleasure it gave him. “Take what you want, Harry, tell me what you want….” He didn’t know how Harry’d read his mind when he was in the shower, but he hoped Harry would pick up on, and be pleased by, this image as well.

“I want….” Harry seemed close to orgasm. He was having trouble speaking. Draco was careful to change nothing about what he was doing. He didn’t move his hands or change the picture in his head. He said nothing. He wanted Harry’s first orgasm with him to be intense, memorable and powerful. He didn’t want to interrupt Harry’s rhythm and potentially damage his orgasm. 

He awaited the end of Harry’s sentence quietly, continuing to enjoy what Harry was doing to him. “I want… yes… you… to come… unnnggghhhh… all over my chest… definitely want to… to tie you to my bed… later… fuck yes… come, Draco… come on me!”

Draco let go. He’d been holding back, struggling not to come without permission. Now that he had it he was confident that he would come everywhere. He reached for his cock, finding Harry’s hand there already. “Me?” Draco choked out. Harry let him take over. It took only three hard strokes and Draco came again. He covered Harry’s pecs.

When the first jet of Draco’s come splashed onto Harry’s chest, Harry sped up. He’d been fucking slow and hard and deep into Draco’s clenching arse, but now he seemed to break free of something that had been holding him back, and his rhythm intensified. Draco was in heaven. Harry’s face was screwed up tight. Five hard strokes, ten, and Harry began to come. Moaning and grunting, the two men held on tightly to each other through Harry’s orgasm. 

Harry seemed ready to collapse onto Draco’s sweaty chest, but moved carefully away despite his obvious fatigue. Once his weight was on the mattress, he sank heavily down next to the other man. Resting his head on one arm, he stroked Draco’s nearly hairless chest with a long finger.

Draco turned on one side and watched. Harry had beautiful hands, he realized. He didn’t manicure them, or moisturize them, but he had long, strong fingers. He had capable hands, but also delicate somehow. Delicate in the way of, say, a cellist or a pianist; they looked like they were not themselves delicate, but were instead able to create something delicate. Draco shivered in delight at the thought.

“What was that about?” Harry wondered out loud.

“You don’t already know?” Draco was curious. Now seemed an excellent time to ask how Harry had known what he was daydreaming about in the shower a couple of hours before.

“Of course I don’t!” Harry seemed genuinely surprised at the question.

“But you’ve been reading my mind. You saw my thoughts when I was in the shower, and we weren’t even in there together. And you saw my idea before about being tied up. How is it that you don’t know what I’m thinking now?”

“Probably because you aren’t thinking in pictures.”

“No, I’m not. But I was before. So you can see the pictures in my head?”

“Well, sometimes. I started working on Occlumency back in our fifth year.” Harry’s fingers were tracing figure eights on his chest.

“No shit?”

“You haven’t heard the oddest part. Snape was teaching me.”

“No shit!”

“Yeah.” Harry grinned like a schoolboy who had done something naughty and not been caught. “I’ve never been a terribly good Occlumens, but as it turns out I have a natural gift for Legilimency. I even got into Snape’s head once.”

Draco looked completely astonished.

“With _Protego_.”

Now Draco allowed himself to appear gobsmacked. Harry gave him an adorable smile and continued to run his fingertips through the sparse blond hair over Draco’s heart.

“So my lessons got interrupted a few times, but when I started Auror training they realized I had a skill and they really made me work my arse off on it. You can imagine that Legilimency is a useful skill for an Auror.”

Draco nodded.

“I’m at the point now where if I have something of a connection with someone, and they are thinking about me, or about us, especially in pictures, I can’t help but see the pictures. Well, as long as we’re within a few yards of each other. It’s like I can’t turn the switch off anymore.”

“Switch?”

“Muggle technological analogy. Sorry.”

“Mmm. S’all right. I’d like to learn more about the rest of the world.”

“Would you?” Harry looked positively delighted when Draco nodded.

“Yes.” Draco continued, enjoying the feeling of Harry’s fingers touching his chest, Harry’s legs next to his. “I really would. Lucius is still all over the superiority of Wizard-kind, but I feel quite ignorant of all that I’m missing. Lucius would be furious if he knew.”

“I’m utterly intrigued,” Harry replied. “But I don’t want to talk about him. Not right now.”

Draco smirked. “No?”

Harry’s finger left Draco’s chest and trailed up the other man’s neck with the slightest of touches. Draco stiffened with anticipation. His cock began to stiffen again with arousal.

“No. I promised you three orgasms, and I haven’t delivered yet.”

Draco lay passively, accepting Harry’s touch. “Mmmm,” he murmured encouragingly. He’d never come three times in one evening, but he was perfectly happy for Harry to try. Whether or not he succeeded, they were sure to have fun. And either way, Draco would win. For he either gave Harry what he wanted, filling him with masculine pride and accomplishment, or he filled Harry with the desire to try harder. Gryffindors really were adorably easy to manipulate.

“You’re quite amazing, Harry. I’ve never had anyone like you before.”

Harry’s responding growl was warm and possessive. “I don’t want you thinking about other men in my bed, Malfoy.”

“Oh, so it’s ‘Malfoy’ again, then?”

“I think,” Harry said quietly, “you are doing entirely too much talking. And thinking, as a matter of fact.”

Draco lowered his long eyelashes and looked at Harry through them.

Harry’s hands moved from Draco’s chest to his back, and he pulled Draco closer. Draco slid on top of Harry, their half-hard cocks rubbing together, their mouths together, kissing slowly and tenderly as they finally explored each other at some leisure. Harry had claimed almost every inch of Draco earlier, but now Draco felt he was claiming Harry. He grew harder at the thought, and decided it was time to ask for that third orgasm Harry had promised.

His lips left Harry’s to travel along his jawline, and then he delighted in Harry’s ear for a few kisses.

“Harry?”

“Mmm.”

“I want to climb onto your cock. May I?”

“ **Mmm hmm!** ” Harry muttered enthusiastically.

Draco reached between them and grasped Harry’s cock. He almost sat on it without giving it much of a glance, but decided to finally take the opportunity to examine what he’d been dreaming about.

Draco moved his hand up and down the shaft slowly, giving him time to really see it. It was uncut, very hard, a bit rosy in color; it curved a bit to the right, and was a quite respectable length, probably seven inches. It was a very attractive cock, thank Merlin. But most notably, it looked remarkably thick. It had certainly felt very thick inside him.

“Mmm?” Harry asked, obviously wondering why Draco wasn’t wrapped around him yet.

Draco positioned himself and slid onto Harry as slowly as he could. “I’ve been wondering what your cock looks like. I wanted to take a good look, since I finally had the chance.”

Harry smiled and grasped Draco’s hips. He gave one hard thrust upward and Draco gasped and fell forward a bit before catching himself and sitting up again.

“Oohhh…” he managed.

“So, do you like the look of my cock?”

“Yes, very much. But I like the feel of it even better.” Draco slid up and down, leaning on Harry’s broad, strong shoulders. “Your cock felt so thick inside me, now I know it really is that thick.”

Draco caught himself before he could tell Harry that it was probably the thickest cock he’d ever seen. Harry had just told him not to talk about other men. He didn’t want to disregard the order so soon after hearing it.

“Tell me how I feel, beautiful.”

Draco pushed aside his desire to ask about Harry calling him beautiful and thought about the question. “Big. Thick. So… nggghh….”

“Really?” Harry sounded amused and breathy.

“Hard. Hard to talk, too.” He smiled. “You feel good, Harry. Glad you wanted this.”

“Oh… I wanted this. I wanted _you_. Wanted you for ages.” Harry started to force himself upwards into Draco as Draco pushed down. “Couldn’t really admit it to myself, but yeah…” Harry trailed off as he concentrated on filling Draco, in and out, in and out. “Been wanting you… since, fuck, dunno.”

Now this Draco wasn’t going to let go of so easily. He’d already admitted to his own longstanding crush. How long had Harry been hard for _him_? He sat up, taking his hands off Harry’s shoulders, and worked Harry’s cock with his arse. 

He knew he looked good like this, on top of this man, riding his thick, heavy cock, hands in his pale hair, displaying himself. Draco’s hard cock jutted out over Harry’s belly, with a thin filament of pre-come shining between them, stretching and never quite breaking as Draco rode up and down, grabbing Harry tight with the muscles in his arse.

“Since when, Harry?” he said in a quiet voice. “Won’t you please tell me?”

“Nuh-now?”

“Please?”

Harry screwed his eyes shut. “Uhnnggghhhh… since, uh…”

“Am I that good?” Draco asked coyly.

Harry’s eyes flew open. “That good? You want to know how good you are?”

Draco simply looked at Harry through lowered lashes again.

“This is how good you are, Draco.” And Harry suddenly flipped them over, Draco on his back under Harry again, their connection almost breaking, but thankfully not quite. Harry was remarkably graceful, Draco realized. He hadn’t been as a teenager. Auror training, perhaps? 

Now that he was on top again, Harry shoved Draco’s legs up and away and started fucking into Draco hard, in earnest. It felt intense. Ooh, a thick cock was a nice, nice thing in his arse. Attached to Harry, though, this thick cock was a treasure to be savoured.

“You are so good, I want to tie you to my bed and never let you leave it. You are so good that I am fantasizing about filling you with my come and my babies and quitting my job so I never have to stop fucking your tight little hole.”

Harry slammed hard into Draco’s arse, his bollocks repeatedly swinging into Draco’s arse cheeks. Draco put one hand on Harry’s arse, the other on Harry’s face. He stared into Harry’s eyes, a wide, almost innocent look on his face. He listened.

“Grab your cock, Draco. Grab your delicious cock, and listen to me tell you how beautiful you are while I bang you into this mattress.”

Draco obeyed. But he left one hand on Harry’s face. Harry nuzzled it for a brief moment.

“Love your beautiful hair, your patrician face. Love your amazing grey eyes. Merlin, Draco, how long? You want to know how long?” His voice was heavy, breathy with exertion. Draco nodded, a tiny nod. “Since sixth year, Draco. Since I was following you and obsessing over you and desperate to know what you were doing in the Room of Requirement. 

“You are so fucking beautiful, so crazy over-the-top gorgeous. Even while I was obsessing over Ginny Weasley, I was thinking about you, as well. Even though it took me years to admit it to myself.

“I was so upset when I saw you try to kill Dumbledore, it sort of killed the crush for a long time, but it never really went all the way away. It just…” he took a breath and concentrated on fucking for a few hard strokes. Then he slowed enough to look into Draco’s eyes again. “I never stopped wanting you, Draco. Not even during the war. I loved Ginny but I somehow, somewhere, always wanted you, too.”

The things Harry was saying were affecting Draco, right into his core. He realized he was about to come. It was rising up, curling through his bollocks, tensing him. He didn’t even have time to ask permission, he simply grabbed the back of Harry’s neck and pulled him down, kissing him passionately, intensely, as jets of pearl-white fluid shot out of his cock and slid, slippery, between their chests.

Harry kissed him and kissed him and then, just as Draco’s orgasm faded, Harry’s began.

“OH! Fuck, oh Draco, oh Draco, Draco, Draayyy…” Harry filled Draco’s arse with come.

“Come in me, oh yes, fill me up, give it all to me, more, Harry, more more moremoremore… want you, need you, fuck me, fill me…”

“Gonna…” Harry collapsed gently onto Draco’s messy chest. “Gonna kill me, beautiful.”

And Draco smiled. A genuine smile, without a trace of affectation or calculation or deliberation. He wrapped his arms around Harry’s back and held him close and smiled.

He knew now, he was going to win Harry’s heart. He’d almost succeeded already. And it was a damn good thing, too, because Harry’d had Draco’s heart for a long, long time.


	4. Whatever Happened to Ginny?

The two men lay in the afterglow of fabulous sex and held each other tentatively. Draco’s smile had faded a bit, though Harry’s face was still in his neck, so he didn’t know it.

They had both revealed a great deal this evening, and Draco wasn’t completely certain who currently held the upper hand. He knew, though, that he was a bit bothered by how much the ex-girlfriend had come up tonight, so he decided he needed more information.

“So, Potter.”

“For fuck’s sake, Draco!” He pulled his head away from Draco’s neck to look at him. “Don’t you think you should call me Harry?” Thank Merlin, he was smiling as he said it.

“I’ll try.” Draco smiled back. “Anyway, I’ve been wondering. Whatever happened with you and Ginny?”

Suddenly Harry looked a bit sour. “Why do you want to know? I can’t see as it’s really any of your business.”

Draco winced internally and then fought with the desire to point out that Potter had already talked about the lady quite a bit. While they were fucking, thank you very much. Sounding like a jealous shrew was not in Draco’s best interests. And besides, the whole world knew that the ex was in Australia. Draco could afford a bit of self-confidence. 

“Well, you two were, as far as anyone could tell, a successful couple for years, but then about a year ago, I think it was, you broke up. If I am going to marry you, I ought to know what ended your relationship so I avoid making that mistake myself.”

“More like a year and a half ago, really. Your logic is sound Draco, I’ll give you that. You’ve convinced me.” The words weren’t encouraging, but the tone and the smile were. “Ginny and I were, well, we were a very successful couple, to use your language. I loved her like crazy, and I probably will always love her in some way.”

Draco hid a scowl.

“But we were both dedicated to our careers – you probably know she became an Auror, too?”

Draco nodded. Everyone had known about the dating Aurors: hero and heroine.

“The longer we dated, the more Ginny came to realize that she wasn’t willing to be a mother.” Harry sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “For the first few years, she assumed she would want children eventually, but the longer she was an Auror, the more she loved it, the better she was at it, the less she wanted to interrupt her career for kids. And the more nieces and nephews she had, the more she watched all her sisters-in-law doing the work of pregnancy and motherhood, the more she came to realize that it was something she was completely unwilling to do. Ever.”

Harry paused a moment and began to run his fingers through Draco’s hair. Draco sighed in quiet pleasure. “For a couple of years, I held out hope that I could convince her to have babies if I stayed home, quit my position in Magical Law Enforcement to raise them, but she couldn’t come to terms with that either. Especially since I wasn’t willing to consider less than three unless she had some seriously strong health reasons.”

“No less than three, eh? How many do you want ideally?”

“With the kind of money we would have, and the space… I want at least five children, Draco. Frankly, I’d prefer ten. I’m told pregnancy isn’t easy on a wizard. Are you willing to do that?”

“Well,” Draco pulled himself up just enough to look Harry in the eye. “I have a good thirty or thirty-five years of childbearing potential ahead of me. Possibly more. Could you cope with me spacing them out a lot?”

“You’d be willing to give birth at sixty-five?!”

“Don’t think like a Muggle, Harry.” He lay down on his back again. “A sixty-five year old wizard is in the prime of his life. Not even middle aged.”

“Right. I keep forgetting I could live to be a hundred seventy-five years old or more.”

“So yes, Harry, I would definitely be willing to have five children with you. Or more. I hated being an only child.”

“Did you really?” Harry shifted onto his side and looked at Draco’s handsome face.

“Yeah, I’ll tell you all about it some time.” Draco turned his head toward Harry but remained on his back.

“I’d like to hear.” Harry smiled. “I think I’d like to learn all those sorts of things about you.” Harry placed a small, sweet kiss on Draco’s forehead, and while he was sure the other man couldn’t see his face, Draco indulged in a split second of visible excitement.

Unaware of Draco’s moment of exhilaration and weakness, Harry continued. “So anyway, Ginny and I tried for many years to come to some sort of reasonable compromise on the kids issue. But we just… couldn’t. When a tempting offer came through, she decided to go ahead and relocate to Australia, and we parted fairly amiably. You should know, actually, we are still friends.” Harry flopped onto his back again. Then he gave the ceiling a small smile that Draco could not quite read before it disappeared.

“If she had wanted kids, I’m quite sure I would already be married and I would probably be home right now changing nappies and baking pies.

“I can tell you, Draco, letting go of the dream of marrying Ginny was hard for me. I did love her, and among other things, I’d been so excited to realize that I could marry a Weasley and really, truly be a part of their family – not just a close family friend.”

Harry looked wistful, and suddenly, Draco felt sad for him. Then he caught himself. How bad did he have it for this man? Bad, very bad. He needed to get a stronger hold on his emotions. Harry continued, unaware of Draco’s thoughts.

“From the first time she told me she was having second thoughts about ever being a mother, to her deciding to move to Canberra, was about five years. The whole process was a bit agonizing for the both of us. Could she possibly compromise and have children, could I possibly compromise and not have them, or only have one… we both hated it. It’s a relief to know that won’t be an issue with you.

“You know,” Harry again rolled over a bit more onto his side so he could look at Draco more easily, “I’d really thought I’d solved the problem with her when I offered to stay home and take care of the kids.”

“To change the nappies and bake the pies?” Draco was amused at the domestic picture this created in his mind.

“Yeah. But I’m glad now that she didn’t take me up on that. I think it would have been fine, but I love being an Auror, and I guess I couldn’t bear to give it up any more than she could.” Harry sighed very quietly and watched his own hand trail down Draco’s chest. “I want desperately to be a father, but I don’t really want to be a stay-at-home Dad.”

“Well, I don’t expect you’ll have that kind of life with me, but I do like pie.” And Draco smiled warmly.

Harry laughed, and Draco knew he’d played this well. In return, Draco gave him a flirtatious smile.

%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%

Draco knew he couldn’t possibly spend the night. The _Daily Prophet_ would almost certainly have a front-page photo of the two of them dancing at that club, and that was more than enough reason for him to leave. It certainly made a good excuse. But he wouldn’t have spent the night even if they’d eluded the press completely. He could have mind-blowing sex with Harry and increase his chances of marrying him, but he couldn’t spend the night. He knew he needed to leave Harry wanting more. 

So Draco took a second shower, and this time he kept his mind free of dirty pictures. Winky had cleaned his clothes perfectly. He dressed quickly in the bathroom, so Harry wouldn’t see him nude, and he told Harry goodbye.

Harry seemed a bit sad that Draco was leaving, but he didn’t invite him to stay. Not that Draco would have, but it would have been nice to be asked. It would have been even nicer if Harry had asked Draco out on a second date, but that didn’t happen either. Draco made certain that Harry saw no disappointment on his face or in his body language. He kept his words warm, even a touch flirtatious, but non-committal. Then Draco kissed Harry goodbye one more time and stepped into the fireplace. But that last goodnight kiss was intended to set Harry a-simmer. He could only hope it worked.

While he walked from the main fireplace towards his bedroom, Draco was surprised to see that his father was in his study, despite it being an hour or two past the middle of the night.

“Draco.” Lucius’ voice was clipped. Draco saw traces of discomfort and nervousness in his father’s tone and manner that no one but he or Mother would have recognized.

“Father?” Draco’s face and voice were equally blank. He could have been asking a stranger for the time.

“I see you have arrived home from your date quite early in the morning. Did Potter take you to his bed? Did he enjoy you? Will you be seeing him again?” Lucius’ comportment was cool but his sentences were too rushed, too personal. Draco saw his disquiet. When had Draco’s abilities surpassed his father’s? Fifteen years in Azkaban had cracked that perfect façade a bit. Only slightly, but Draco and Narcissa could read Lucius now, and Lucius couldn’t even see them do it.

“Father.” Draco gave his father a respectful nod that hinted at a bow without actually becoming one. “Harry and I had a lovely evening. We will almost certainly be on the cover of the _Prophet_ in the morning. Front page and above the fold, I expect.”

Lucius gave a satisfied nod. Both men knew that such publicity could only benefit their plans.

“He took me to a lovely restaurant just north of Brinlack.”

Lucius interrupted. “Brinlack?”

“County Donegal, I believe. On the North Atlantic. Lovely sunset.”

“Floo?”

“Side-Along.”

“I see.” Lucius was attempting to hide his glee at this overt display of magical power on a first date. He was failing.

“We also went dancing at a gay club in Galway, where we were discovered by reporters, and then Harry took me to his home, and his bed.” _Where we made love for hours, and he claimed every last fragment of my heart. And thank the Standing Stones you can’t read my mind the way my Harry can._ Lucius’ insufficiently hidden excitement became even less veiled.

“I am confident that he will be asking me on a second date soon.”

Lucius scowled. This time he did not try to hide it. “He didn’t extend a second invitation before you left?”

“He will.” Draco was calm. He knew how Harry wanted him. His father’s panic could not disturb his post-coital bliss.

“See that he does. And get some sleep. You need to look good whenever he might choose to pop in.” 

Lucius turned back to his papers and Draco murmured a quiet “Goodnight, Father.” It was a clear dismissal, and a displeased one, but Draco truly did not care. His father no longer held much sway. Now it was all about Harry. Which was exactly as Draco wished it to be. He walked down the halls to his suite and retired quickly.

He certainly did not need to masturbate tonight.

%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%

Harry watched Draco leave, oblivious to the grilling his new lover was about to receive. For a few moments, all he could think about was that last goodnight kiss. Draco was an extraordinarily talented tease. Harry breathed deeply for a minute and walked back toward his bedroom. He considered wanking, but knew it couldn’t hold a candle to his exceptional night with Draco and dismissed the idea. Eventually this erection would go away on its own.

Damn. What was he _doing_? One date and he’d practically given his heart away? To _Malfoy_? And yet, just as everyone had been telling him, Malfoy – no, Draco – had most definitely grown up. He was mature; he was polite. He was intelligent, good company and sophisticated. He was self-assured, loyal to his family and magically powerful. 

He was also rather attractive, and fairly fit… oh, who was Harry kidding? Draco was sex on legs. He was the most beautiful human being Harry had ever seen, _forget_ fucked. Ginny was an attractive and intelligent woman, but Draco… something about that man pushed every single sexual button Harry had. 

His nipples were perfect rosy buds. His skin was pure English cream. His chest and abdominals were perfectly defined – visible under most lighting, easily discernable to a gentle touch, but not showy. He was no steroid-riddled body-builder. His legs were strong and masculine, as were his shoulders and arms. His hands were small and almost delicate, yet not at all feminine. Actually, there was nothing feminine about him, except perhaps for his lengthening hair. But even that would not be feminine when long, Harry decided. He did not even wear jewelry that could be considered feminine; no necklace, no ring, and his cufflinks had been quite understated.

Even if Draco would let him, Harry couldn’t think of a single physical attribute he would change about the other man. Asking him to grow his hair wasn’t the same thing. That was just asking for more.

Yes, Draco was exciting, fascinating, fun and delicious. But marriage material? He couldn’t decide. He needed to talk to someone he could trust. Someone he hadn’t talked to yet. George? Minerva? No… and besides, he was so agitated he needed to talk to someone right now if he could. But who could he fire-call at this hour of the night? Then he had a flash of insight. It was not quite lunchtime in Canberra. Maybe Ginny was home?

He Summoned and donned his dressing gown and threw some Floo powder in the fireplace. “Number forty-two Floriade Boulevard, Canberra, Australia!”

It took a bit longer to connect than a local firecall, but after a moment Harry saw Ginny’s sunny little kitchen. Ginny was in a dressing gown herself. It looked like she was making herself something to eat, and she turned to her kitchen fireplace with a bit of surprise. “Hello? Harry? _Harry!_ To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?!”

She did sound genuinely happy to hear from him, and Harry felt a sudden twinge of discomfort. Was he overstepping the bounds of their friendship? They’d been inches from marriage themselves only two years before. Still, she’d said so many times that she wanted theirs to be a real friendship, and that he was still as much a Weasley as he’d ever been…. No, there was nothing for it but to bite the bullet and talk with her about Draco.

“It’s a bit of a crazy story, Gin. Can I come through and tell you all about it?”

“Well, of course, Harry. Pop on through!”

Harry had never learned to like the spinning sensations of Floo travel, but he needed the comfort of an old friend’s wisdom on this. He stepped into his fireplace and soon enough found himself, disoriented and sooty, hands and knees on the floor of Ginny’s cute little house.

“Shit. That’s some ride.”

“Yeah, I always have to take a few minutes to recover after I do that trip. Tea?”

“Please.” He cleaned himself up a bit with his wand and sat at her kitchen table. Looking out her window, he saw that it was a lovely, sunny day in Canberra. Ginny had a small Weasley clock on her wall, and it was jammed with hands, for all of her brothers had survived the war, married, and had at least one child by now. Even Fred and George had managed to find women willing to procreate with them. 

Ginny busied herself with preparing a cup of tea the way she knew Harry liked it; she’d already made herself a pot, so it didn’t take long. 

Harry stretched languorously backwards in his chair and spared a moment to be glad he had no intention of being a Hogwarts professor any time in the next few decades. It wouldn’t be long before the place was overrun with redheads, each with his own idea of which rules were actually meant to be followed. 

Then he noticed that two of the clock’s hands were pointed at “Ginny’s place”. One of them was his. 

“Aww, Gin. I didn’t know you had my name on your clock. That’s so sweet.”

“Sad and creepy, you mean!” she said. And she gave him a goofy smile.

“Er,” he sat up straight. “What _am_ I doing on there, Gin?”

“Harry.” Ginny sat across from him at the table and placed one small hand upon his two hands, which were one atop the other next to his cup of lapsang souchong. “I’ve told you before, and I’ll tell you again now. _You_ are a Weasley. And we’re friends, you and I. If we weren’t friends, after everything we’ve shared, everything we had, then I would be most disappointed. In both of us. And I’m seeing someone now. So there’s no worries there, all right?”

Harry allowed himself a breath of relief. He’d not been overly worried, but he’d been concerned enough to ask. He was glad it wasn’t going to be an issue. He had enough romantic issues at the moment. “Yes, thanks, Ginny. Tell me about your new flame?”

“Ahh, not much to tell, yet.” She stretched a bit, and her hands ended up back around her own teacup. “Name’s Dirk. His dad’s Muggleborn but his mum’s family’s wizarding since forever. Moved to Canberra about a year before I did, but he’s an Aussie. Works for the Australian Ministry in Magical Games and Sports. He played Quidditch – Keeper – at Aotearoa, the Kiwi version of Hogwarts. It’s where all the Aussies go, too.” Ginny smiled as she looked down at her tea for a moment. “But I’m reasonably sure you didn’t Floo all the way here to talk about Dirk.” She looked up and gave him a friendly smile. “So what’s on your mind?”

“Well, er,” Harry blushed slightly and looked toward Ginny’s pretty blue teapot. “Heard any juicy gossip about me, lately?”

Ginny laughed. Harry had always loved that laugh of hers. She sounded like a fairie sprite in the wind. _I wonder what Draco’s laughter sounds like…._

“Harry? You in there?”

“Sorry, Ginny. Got caught up in a thought. So, have you?”

“Nope. Sorry. You’ll have to tell me the whole sordid tale yourself.”

“Ahh. Well. Here’s the thing. I seem to be courting Draco Malfoy.”

Ginny, good friend that she was, simply took another sip of her milky tea.

“I guess it started when…” and he launched into the tale. The letter to Remus, the promises of privacy, money, lands and children, the dinner at the Manor, the date, and then bringing Draco to his bed. He left out the details of their tryst, but made sure (although it made him blush) that Ginny understood they’d had sex.

“So what’s the problem, Harry? Why did you need to talk to an old friend about this?”

“I’m afraid I might be making a terrible mistake.”

“Because he’s Draco Malfoy, or because his father is Lucius Malfoy?”

Harry was so grateful for her insight and her honesty. “Yes. Both.”

“But you’ve got it bad for him, don’t you?”

“Yes. Yes, I really do, Gin. There is power behind this, more than I ever would have expected.”

“Well, where does it come from?”

Harry stared at her teapot, trying to come up with a useful answer. “Er, oddly enough, I think we’re fairly equally matched. We have a surprising amount in common, really. He doesn’t see me as a symbol.” Ginny gave him a nod. They both knew how important that was to Harry. “And he’s astonishingly physically attractive. I can’t discount that. 

“Here’s the thing, though; this is what both pulls me in and pushes me away: he holds back. He’s no plainspoken Gryffindor. He’s still such a Slytherin. I can tell he’s always playing chess. Always planning, strategizing, manipulating. Actually,” he smiled warmly, “it’s kind of fun to watch, even though I know he’s doing it to me. For some reason, it doesn’t worry me when he does it.” Ginny smiled warmly back at him. He was glad she seemed to feel comfortable with the picture he was painting of Draco.

“But then there’s his father. I’m very confident that, whatever Draco’s motives might be, Lucius’ motives are _not_ my own, and not good for me. They may not be good for Draco, either, now that I think about it.”

Harry gave a little frown and Ginny picked up on the mood change.

“How separate are they? Can you court and marry Draco without getting entangled in whatever Lucius is trying to do? Or is Draco no more than Lucius’ tool?”

“It’s hard to tell. I think that’s the real question. I’m not sure how to find out.”

“Harry.” Ginny gave him a disapproving look. “How long have you been in Magical Law Enforcement? How honed are your instincts for police work? How good is your Legilimency?”

Harry gave her a sheepish look.

“So you think I can figure it out if I talk with him about it?” She nodded and sipped her tea. He stared out her window for a moment. A bird landed in a tree outside. Suddenly it screeched, “Chi-chi!” Harry started at the loudness of the cry. “Is that a Galah?”

Ginny turned to take a look at the grey and pink parrot outside her window. “Yes.” She turned back towards him and gave him a long appraising look. He looked at the bird till it flew away, and only then did he notice that she was staring at him rather intently. He sipped tea to hide his embarrassment. “Harry? How did you know that?”

“What? The bird’s name?” She nodded. “Oh, well, when you moved to Australia, I bought a few books about the place. It’s one of the most common Australian parrots, it’s hardly a big deal for me to know about it.”

Ginny put down her tea and gave Harry another long look. She looked at her ceiling for a moment, then seemed to come to some sort of decision. “Harry. You are such an extraordinary dolt sometimes. And at the same time, you are this incredible man. The things you know, without realizing you know them, without realizing they are worth knowing…. Harry, my silly old friend, you are crazy about him. You’re probably half in love with him already.”

Harry started to make a dismissive motion, as though to deny her assertion.

“Harry. What time is it at home in England? And you came all the way to _Australia_ to discuss him with your _ex-fiancee_?”

Harry looked sheepish again, and also a bit contemplative.

“Hon, go home, get some sleep, and owl him in the morning. Invite him to that island retreat you bought a few years back. Once you’re alone with him there, tell him your concerns, and feel him out. Your instincts and ability to read people are superb. Just read him, Harry. You’ve been reading him, and you already trust him. Hell, you’ve been reading him for years, I’m sure of it.”

Harry blushed a bit at the insinuation and implication. He’d not exactly wanted Ginny to know he’d had Draco somewhere in his mind throughout their relationship. Ginny, thankfully, ignored his blush and continued without a pause.

“Now do it on purpose and see what comes of it. But I feel confident that it will all work out. You wouldn’t have taken things so far already if he were a danger to you. You are too good at what you do.”

Harry finished his tea and looked into Ginny’s eyes. He saw her wisdom, the truth of what she said. He _was_ a good judge of character. He _did_ have good instincts. He _was_ good at reading people, situations, and even minds. 

Abruptly he stood, and ran both hands through his hair. Then he leaned on her table and smiled at her, a bright, happy smile.

“You’re right, Gin. I can just talk to him and get a read on all of this. I’ve already seen into his mind accidentally, so with permission, I can see in there on purpose as well.” He smiled broadly. “This was just what I needed. I am really glad I thought to come talk with you! I feel a lot better.”

They both stood and gave each other a hug. They exchanged a few words about when Ginny might next be back at The Burrow, Harry put his teacup in the sink, and he Flooed home.

He’d intended to sleep, as Ginny had recommended, but he found he was a bit too restless. So despite the odd hour, he put on his running clothes and went on a run through the park near his flat. It was fairly quiet, but the light pollution interfered with his view of the stars. He wondered what it would be like to jog through the gardens and pretty lands around Draco’s home, but he shut that thought down quickly. He would court and marry Draco for Draco alone, not for money or land or privacy.

When he got back to his flat, he showered and lay down again in his bed. But sleep would not come. He was simply too eager to contact Draco.

He walked to Hedwig’s room and sat down at the desk. Taking out quill and parchment, he composed a note to Draco. Hedwig arrived home while he wrote it.

 

Dear Draco,

I hope Hedwig doesn’t wake you, but I’m eager to send this note.   
She’s a smart owl, so hopefully she’ll leave this on your bed without   
disturbing you, or wait till you wake.

At any rate, I wanted to tell you again that I had a wonderful evening   
with you, and a wonderful night as well. I probably should have   
asked you to spend the night, as I haven’t slept a wink since you left.   
I got in a good run though, so all is not lost.

I hope you had a good time as well, because I very much want to see   
you again. Next Saturday morning at 10am, I would like to take you   
to a quiet little retreat I bought a few years ago. It is very private and   
we can be certain that no reporters or photographers will bother us there.

Please reply at your earliest convenience.

Sincerely,   
Harry

 

Harry tied the note to Hedwig’s outstretched leg and offered her a treat, which she refused.

“Good hunting tonight, girl?” She clucked at him softly and consented to be petted for a moment. “Good, because Wiltshire is a bit of a fly from here.”

She turned and gave him a look that seemed to imply he’d underestimated and perhaps even insulted her; flying to Wiltshire was nothing.

“Well, good.” He chuckled quietly. “I’m glad you aren’t daunted. He’ll almost certainly be asleep, so if you can, just drop it on his bed. If the wards won’t let you in, please wait by his window till he wakes. I don’t want to wake him, but I really want him to get this note soon. I want him to know how eager I am to see him again. All right, Hedwig?”

She pulled her leg back and gazed at him in her dignified manner.

“I always know I can count on you, girl. Thank you.”

Hedwig flew from the room, quickly turning southwest, heading toward Salisbury, and a Manor well hidden from Muggles and wizards alike.

Harry went back to bed and quickly fell into a deep, restful sleep.

Hours later, when Draco awoke from a refreshing night and morning’s sleep, he saw a folded white note on his blue duvet. On the outside of the parchment was written simply “Draco”. He didn’t have to look at it any more closely to know it was from Harry. He smiled broadly and picked it up, already knowing he would be pleased by what it said.

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	5. Off to Ogygia

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Draco made himself comfortable against his pillows and headboard to reread Harry’s note. 

 

Dear Draco,

I hope Hedwig doesn’t wake you, but I’m eager to send this note.   
She’s a smart owl, so hopefully she’ll leave this on your bed without   
disturbing you, or wait till you wake.

At any rate, I wanted to tell you again that I had a wonderful evening   
with you, and a wonderful night as well. I probably should have   
asked you to spend the night, as I haven’t slept a wink since you left.   
I got in a good run though, so all is not lost.

I hope you had a good time as well, because I very much want to see   
you again. Next Saturday morning at 10am, I would like to take you   
to a quiet little retreat I bought a few years ago. It is very private and   
we can be certain that no reporters or photographers will bother us there.

Please reply at your earliest convenience.

Sincerely,   
Harry

 

As he was alone, he could indulge in a bit of gloating. Harry might not have invited him to spend the night, but he’d not been able to go to sleep until he’d asked Draco on a second date – at least! And he wasn’t fooled for a moment that Harry wanted privacy primarily because of the press. The _Prophet_ was annoying of course, but this was about getting Draco naked.

Now, how to respond? Saying anything but “yes” was obviously out of the question. But how to say it…. Should he write now or later today? Should he use the telephone or an owl? Should he be warm or cool…. Decisions, decisions….

Draco lay back on his pillows. Already conveniently naked and mostly hard, he put Harry’s note on his chest and held it there with his left hand while he stroked his cock with his right.

Unobserved, free, still reeling from hours of amazing sex with a man he’d lusted after since childhood, Draco held Harry’s note to his bare skin and remembered hands, a mouth, kisses and declarations. Longing for Harry’s cock, he considered letting go of the note or his cock long enough to grab a dildo from the bedside table, but decided against it. He wanted to come all over Harry’s note. More importantly, he wanted to save his tight little arse for Harry’s cock. He would be as sentimental and emotional as he chose, right now while it wouldn’t cost him anything.

He stroked his cock over and over, root to tip, glans to bollocks, and let his mind fill with vivid memories of the man he loved.

Later, he would be surprised that only about half of his thoughts were overtly sexual, but while masturbating, he simply let go of analysis and felt good while he touched himself and remembered his man.

He shot come all over his hand and note and chest while luxuriating in the memory of Harry holding him close, just before Apparating them off to the restaurant at the beginning of their date the night before.

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Harry slept in until almost lunchtime on Saturday morning, then had lunch with Ron, Hermione, and their children. He almost always enjoyed the company of Orion and Gideon, currently four and two, but found he was particularly grateful for their personal brand of energetic, enthusiastic distraction today.

When he wasn’t chasing the boys up a tree or spinning one of them around in the garden, he would find himself awash with intense, visceral memories of fucking Draco.

Cursing himself wryly for asking Draco out for a day that was an entire ruddy week after their first date, he stayed with his friends and their bouncy, tiring sons as long as he politely could. While the boys napped, Hermione and Ron happily told him they were soon to be welcoming a third child. And the midwife had said she was pretty sure this time Hermione was carrying a girl. As Molly and Arthur already had fifteen grandchildren – fourteen of them boys – this was exciting news for all of the Weasleys.

Harry was happy for them, and wistful at the same time. Could he have news like this of his own next year?

When Harry finally went back home, he found his answering machine blinking. Hoping for the unlikely, he immediately pushed the button and was both delighted and disappointed to hear Draco’s drawl.

“Harry, you really should have given me your phone number yourself. Luckily, I ran into my cousin Tonks while shopping today and she knew it. I would be pleased to accompany you on Saturday morning. I will wait for you, weather permitting, in my mother’s rose garden. I think you will like it.”

Harry immediately went to his calendar and wrote this down. Damn! Why hadn’t he been home to get the phone? Except, if he had been, would he have invited Draco over? Would Draco have come? If they’d gotten together, they’d have had sex again, he felt sure of it. And Harry didn’t want to rush into this any more than he already had. No, this was the right way. Sexually frustrating, but otherwise it was right.

Skipping dinner, Harry went into his exercise room, turned on the television, and began doing crunches to distract himself.

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Draco walked briskly through the Manor gardens again. That was a stroke of genius, making sure to run into Tonks and getting her to give him Harry’s phone number. Since Mother still wasn’t close to Aunt Andromeda, and Tonks was still reportedly a bit unhappy about losing the werewolf to Snape – and what an odd love triangle mess that had been a few years back – he’d really had to seek past his usual sources to obtain the information he’d needed. 

But Neville Longbottom was close with Tonks, and he’d had a marvelous built-in excuse to go chat with Neville. After all, Neville had helped Harry out with those flowers he’d brought to Draco and his mum the night before. And just before he went to Apparate to Neville’s front walk, he’d remembered that Luna had just given birth to their second child, a son this time.

So Draco arrived bearing chocolates for Luna and a fluffy blue sleeper wrapped up attractively for the newest Longbottom. He was all smiles and congratulations and thanks on the outside, and all schemes to learn of several likely places to “run into” Tonks on the inside.

Of course, it would have been simpler to just ask Neville and Luna for Harry’s phone number, but Draco wanted to make an opportunity to chat up Tonks. Also an Auror, a decorated veteran of the second war, and an old friend of Harry’s, she was – perhaps even more importantly – Draco’s only blood relative who was not a pure-blood. He wanted to make it clear to Harry that he was comfortable with this half-blood cousin of his, who was also Harry’s long-term friend. He could find a way to make nice with Muggle-born Uncle Ted some other time if necessary.

Arriving at the gazebo where he liked to do his Ta’i Chi, Draco shucked his joggers and, wearing only shorts, got down to some serious exercising. He worked hard all week on both his control exercises and his physical exercises. And he walked a great deal more than usual. He saw parts of the grounds he hadn’t seen in years.

It was a welcome distraction, and – even better – the best way to keep his mother and father out of his hair. They seemed pleased that Harry had asked Draco out again so quickly, but Draco was more than tired of living under their thumbs. He was nearly thirty-one years old already. The lines about family loyalty and duty from dear old dad were definitely starting to chafe. Badly.

Despite the pretty lies he’d told when father had been released from prison, he’d hardly missed the man at all.

And the more he practiced his control with wandless levitation exercises, for example, the less time he spent daydreaming about Harry sucking his cock.

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As it happened, Draco had wasted the effort it took to track down Harry’s phone number so circuitously. The ex-Gryffindor didn’t even think to make the connections about Tonks, Draco, their family relationship, and Tonks’ Muggleborn father. He was too busy burying himself in working late. Then when he couldn’t stay at the Ministry any longer, he would come home, eat something quickly, and exercise in front of the telly all evening till he was exhausted. 

It seemed the best way to keep himself from owling Draco with a request to just please come over already and suck Harry’s cock.

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Hundreds of crunches, sit-ups and leg lifts later, it was finally Saturday morning. 

Knowing how meticulously Draco had been dressing for him, Harry had chosen his clothing very carefully. He’d not been very open with Draco about where they were going, as he wanted the retreat to be a surprise. Draco would actually be the first person Harry had ever brought there, as he and Ginny had been breaking up when the sale had finally gone through. Buying one’s own tiny island in the South Pacific, it turned out, was a remarkably complicated real estate transaction. The whole process had taken nearly ten months, all told.

So, Harry was wearing brand new denim jeans, a new short-sleeve polo shirt that matched his eyes quite well, and leather sandals that matched his belt.

He drank a Strengthening Potion and a Boosting Potion, threw a packed bag over one shoulder, then Apparated to the Manor. Finding himself at the entrance to the beautiful gardens, he strolled through them, attempting to find Draco.

Coming around a large hedge, he discovered Draco on a stone bench, sitting quite still, in front of several magnificent rose-covered trellises. White roses covered the green trellis in front of Draco. It was flanked with trellises full of blooming peach-colored roses that released a fragrance so strong, Harry could smell nothing else.

He’d surely been loud enough that Draco had heard him, but Draco said nothing and did not open his eyes, so Harry stood quietly and looked at the other man with appreciative eyes.

Draco had dressed for a much cooler climate than they were actually heading for. Knowing how Harry loved Hogwarts, perhaps he’d assumed that they were likely to head north. Indeed, Harry did own a bit of property on the Isle of Skye, overlooking the Fairy Glen near Uig. And thank heaven for the spells and sorcery that hid his cottage from the Muggles, as they loved that green and verdant place almost as much as he did.

But that wasn’t impressive enough. He wanted to show Draco that the Malfoys weren’t the only folks with real money and powerful magic. So, even though it was only their second date, he wanted to take Draco to Ogygia. He really did hope Draco would be impressed.

Draco was again wearing trousers and a jumper over a buttoned shirt. This time, his trousers were a bit more casual looking, however, and blue. His jumper and shirt collar were also shades of blue. Harry assumed they matched. He wasn’t very good at that sort of thing. They did look nice on Draco, though, that much he had an opinion about.

Draco’s hands were quiet. One rested in his lap while the other was on the bench. As before, he wore no rings, no bracelet. Harry took a long moment to look at Draco’s left hand.

It lay on the stone bench, still and pale, long smooth fingers, white fingernails – surely professionally manicured. Harry found himself wondering what sort of wedding ring would look best on that hand. Platinum, or perhaps titanium. Yellow gold would look all wrong. A wide masculine band. Shiny. No engravings or carvings. Simple, so as to make the hand more elegant. It was already quite elegant, however.

“May I ask what you are thinking about, Harry?”

The voice was warm. Quiet. Slightly flirtatious. The grey eyes were open now, and looking right at Harry.

“Colors, mostly. Ready to go? Or would you like to show me the gardens first? They are lovely. The parts I’ve seen so far, that is.”

“Perhaps another time.” He looked Harry up and down. “I think I must have dressed too warmly and should go change.”

Harry’s reaction was swift and dismayed. “No! I mean, once you take off your jumper you’ll be fine. Let’s just go. Now?”

Draco smiled to himself at Harry’s eagerness to get him away from the Manor. “Of course. I’m sure I’ll be comfortable.” The warmth in Draco’s voice was a slight, gentle tease. 

Draco stepped into Harry’s outstretched arms and barely had time to note that they were both at least half-hard before they popped out of Wiltshire and into a place that was remarkably dark and smelled – strangely – both fresh and salty.

“Shit. Lumos.” Harry stepped away from Draco and looked around, bright wand outstretched.

“Is something the matter?” Draco was highly amused at Harry’s reaction.

“I forgot to take the time difference into account. I do that sometimes. But it isn’t that bad. We can use magic until the sun rises in, er, an hour or three? I’m not sure how far away sunrise is.”

Draco fought the urge to demand where they were. Seven Hells! How far had Harry brought them? Suddenly Apparating them five hundred miles to the Irish Coast seemed like it might be nothing indeed.

“Come?” He reached out a hand, and Draco took it. Harry raised his wand high and waved it, muttering a phrase that Draco didn’t catch, and suddenly the island and edges of the water were well illuminated with a diffuse golden glow that seemed to emanate from the air above the palm trees.

Draco couldn’t help it. At his first glance at Harry’s “retreat” he gasped. They were on an island of whitest sand; there were dozens of lovely palm trees, and the ocean surrounding them was smooth and calm. At the topmost part of the island, a scrap of land the size of perhaps the Manor and half the associated grounds and gardens, was a wooden four-poster bed made up with white linens and airy, diaphanous white curtains floating in the salty breeze.

“Come, let me show you my little retreat. All right? Do you like it?” Harry took in Draco’s wide eyes and stilled motion. “You do like it, don’t you?!” 

He sounded delighted, purely and innocently delighted, and so Draco turned to him and gave him a happy, genuine smile. “I certainly do, Harry. It’s absolutely lovely. Tell me all about it?”

“Of course.” They headed for the shore, a few yards from where they had appeared. “Well,” he began, “this is my island. I call it Ogygia.”

“That sounds vaguely familiar. Is it Greek?”

Harry beamed. “You know some Muggle stories! Yes, it’s from the _Odyssey_. Odysseus spent seven years on Ogygia, Calypso’s island. He loved Calypso, they even had a couple of kids together. But eventually he had to go back and fulfill his responsibilities at home. 

“That’s always how I feel when I stay here. Like I could stay for years, like I never want to leave – but I have responsibilities at home to take care of, so I always leave eventually.”

“What do you do when you’re here?” 

They continued around the shore of the small island. On the other side of the knoll, Draco could see something like a home with several gleaming, modern looking spaces. But everything looked like it was open to the sky. 

As they got closer – Harry talking all the while about swimming, frolicking with dolphins, snorkeling, climbing the palms, eating coconut, and sleeping under the stars – Draco could see more clearly that there was indeed an attractive kitchen, a hot tub, and a Wizarding wireless. It was all protected from the weather, dirt, and such with extremely powerful charms. Draco could see the shimmer and sense the magic. They walked through the wards and sat in the sitting area on two comfortable wooden lounge chairs near the wireless. Harry dropped his rucksack on the clean wooden floor and reached across to hold Draco’s hand.

Draco half listened as Harry explained that he’d placed all the magical protection himself instead of hiring a company. He didn’t like the idea of releasing Ogygia’s coordinates to a passel of strangers. It might be hard to Apparate here but anyone could make an illegal Portkey and disturb him, and he tried to prevent that.

“I expect Ginny loved it here.”

“Oh, no, Ginny’s never been here. I was thinking of her when I started to try to buy an island, but we’d broken up by the time the sale went through.” He paused. “I’ve always thought it would make a great place for a honeymoon.” Harry smiled deeply into Draco’s eyes. “You’re the first person I’ve ever brought here, Draco.”

Draco felt his heart flip. Trying to get a hold of himself, he thought to change the subject a bit.

“So, where are we, exactly?”

“We’re in the South Pacific, basically between New Zealand and Chile.”

Draco looked utterly gobsmacked. Harry had never seen Draco look so openly flabbergasted – not even when they were at Hogwarts. 

“Harry? You Side-Alonged me **how** far?”

Harry’s blush was remarkably sexy, and he leaned his head in his other hand. “Er. Well, I’m not sure to the mile, you know, not from the Manor anyway….”

“Please. An estimate would be fine.”

“Well, as long as you know it’s just an estimate….”

Draco gave Harry a look of impatience. 

“Something around nine thousand miles.” 

Suspecting it was one thing. Knowing vaguely where they were on the globe was another. But hearing the actual estimated mileage brought Draco to his knees. Not immediately, of course. But he stared rather dumbly at Harry, searching the other man’s face. 

“Harry?” He stood up in his agitated confusion. Harry stood up as well.

Harry’s look of shy, embarrassed pride was unmistakable. Draco wanted to swallow him whole. “Yes?” the black-haired wizard asked.

“That isn’t supposed to be magically possible.” Draco searched Harry’s eyes, but he saw nothing more than that adorable shy pride. “You didn’t Portkey us?”

“You came along, Draco, did it feel like a hook behind your navel or a squeezing tube?” Though still blushing, Harry was starting to look a bit like the cat that caught, marinated, sautéed, and **then** ate the canary.

“Yes, it… it certainly did feel like Apparition….” Draco turned away from Harry distractedly and stared out at the beautiful white sand for a moment of contemplation. When he turned back the look on his face was hungry, and full of open longing.

“Harry, I know you said you wanted passivity in the bedroom, but I really have to suck your cock. Right now.”

“Who am I to deny Draco Malfoy?” Harry grinned, grabbed his rucksack, and started to pull Draco toward the bed. “Silk sheets, Anti-sand Charms, beetle-removal spells, water-repelling enchantments… we want the bed. Trust me.”

It took no time at all, but also long, long minutes, to get to that pretty, white bed. When they got within about a yard, Draco could feel powerful tingles of magic. 

He didn’t care.

The bed was on a platform of some slightly cushioned substance. Draco had no idea what it was, but again, he didn’t really care. He could tell that the sand was effectively kept away, as Harry had stated it would be, and that was all he cared to know.

At the foot of the bed, he stood in front of Harry and stared. He would think about Harry’s magical power later. Right now he just wanted to revel, wallow, in Harry’s other sort of magic. He sank to his knees and looked up at Harry’s face. Harry didn’t look shy or embarrassed anymore. He looked eager. He looked like a man in charge. He gave Draco one nod, and Draco started to remove Harry’s trousers.

By the time Harry was nude from the waist down, his erection was full and hard, pushing out from wiry black curls. Draco put his right hand around the base of Harry’s beautiful cock and stroked his bollocks with the other. Draco wondered for a moment if he should stop to put a Celibacy Charm upon himself, so as to avoid the distraction of a neglected erection, but decided against it. Let them both be aware of what Harry did to him. He stared at Harry’s cock, the slit starting to shine with a drop of pre-come.

Should he just begin? Did Harry want him to wait for permission?

“Take me in your mouth, Draco. I want you to.” Harry’s voice sounded controlled, yet low and full of lust. Draco opened his mouth and took in the head of Harry’s cock. His own cock grew harder immediately.

As he pressed the head into the inside of his cheek, and firmly laved the underside with his tongue, Draco reflected on where he found himself. Things were going well. If he allowed himself to speculate, he would say things were going **very** well. He was thrilled to be the first guest Harry had ever invited to this lovely place.

He sucked hard on the head of Harry’s cock and tasted him. The edges of Harry’s green shirt brushed his face so he closed his eyes and teased Harry with his lips, imagining the look on Harry’s face. Harry had a sexy taste, a musk uniquely his own. He took a moment to suck one of the fingers of his left hand in his mouth along with Harry’s cock. When it was dripping with saliva, he nudged it towards Harry’s hole. Harry spread his legs a bit, obliging.

He touched Harry’s hole with his wet finger, wondering if Harry would bottom for him someday. Harry moaned and twisted his fingers through his blond hair. Draco tried to repeat the thing he’d just done with his tongue, wanting Harry to moan like that for him again.

Harry pulled his cock out of Draco’s mouth. “I don’t want to come in your mouth, Draco. I want to come looking into your eyes. I want to make love to you.”

Draco took Harry’s hand and stood. He reached for Harry’s shirt, asking for permission with his eyes. Harry nodded and Draco pulled the soft green cotton over his lover’s head.

Then he took a long, careful look at Harry. “Mmm. You look even better than you did last week. Have you been working out? More than usual, I mean?”

Harry smiled. “I had to work off my nervous energy somehow.” 

“Your thighs look bigger and your abdominals look even more defined.”

“You like?”

“Come here and I’ll show you how much I like.”

“I’d rather take these off you.”

“Oh yes, please, do whatever you want to me.”

Harry groaned and began to strip Draco carelessly. Soon their clothes were in a heap, mostly under their feet.

“Get in the bed, Draco. And don’t be alarmed by the bed’s reaction.”

Draco raised an eyebrow but obeyed silently. As he lay down, the bed reached for him, white restraints slithering toward his wrists and ankles. He remembered his tantalizing tease to Harry the week before, imagining himself tied up, and found himself getting somehow even harder at the reality.

Harry obviously remembered the images from Draco as well, for he was saying “I’ll blindfold you some other time, my lovely. As I said, I want to look into your eyes today.”

Soon Draco found himself spread-eagled on the white bed, his arms and legs pulled firmly, though not painfully, toward the four corners. He tested the restraints and found them quite secure. He wasn’t going anywhere until Harry said so. Excitement bubbled through his gut at the thought. He moaned quietly.

“Draco?”

“I was just thinking that I am completely at your mercy.”

“Oh Merlin, I love hearing you say that.”

“I love that it’s true.”

“That it is, Draco. Now you just enjoy it.”

Harry opened his rucksack and pulled out a fluffy golden feather. He climbed onto the bed with it, next to Draco’s left side, and began to trace lines on Draco’s naked skin. He began at the neck, and – avoiding Draco’s nipples – traced toward his cock, which he also avoided at the last moment. For long, deliciously agonizing minutes, Harry teased Draco with the feather – never touching his nipples, bollocks or cock. Draco’s breathing sped up and he found himself pulling at his restraints. Harry’s touch was so light, almost ticklish, but thankfully never actually tickling. Draco felt cherished. He also felt rather desperate for more. When he caught himself straining, he would force himself to relax, but then he would get distracted again and find himself pulling helplessly at the white cloth once more. His cock was so hard he thought he might have been able to drill through the bed, were he facing down.

His mouth was even more out of control, babbling pleading nonsense. 

“Harry, Harry, oh yes, oh please, oh Harry, touch me, want you, yes there! No – don’t, oh, go back, oh please, want you, so hard, oh please, oh Harry, Harry, Harry….”

Harry wanted desperately to take a nipple or a bollock into his mouth. But not yet, he told himself; over and over he denied himself, wanting to bring Draco to new heights of desperation and longing. After all, they had all day. Or all weekend, if they felt like it.

Finally, Harry could take no more. He had to do more. He reached over the edge of the bed into his opened bag and dropped the feather in. Then he pulled out a small charmed box, from which he removed one round – but otherwise quite ordinary – ice cube. 

With the ice cube in his mouth, he knelt between his lover’s legs, arms pressing into the bed on either side of Draco, and began to suck on the blond man’s left nipple. Draco went from babbling vaguely coherent nonsense, to babbling nonsense that really couldn’t be mistaken for words.

“Oh! Ohhhh… Hahhh… Yssssh… Reee! Ooohhhhhh…. Oh!”

Harry was most gratified, and moved his mouth to Draco’s right nipple, which he nibbled gently, allowing the ice cube to drip cold water onto his lover’s skin.

Draco began to thrash his head, back and forth, begging incoherently for something. Harry didn’t bother to ask what it was; he simply continued to give Draco alternating sensations. Hot mouth. Cold ice. Firm teeth. Soft lips.

When he thought Draco might be ready, he began to nibble down Draco’s chest, laved his stomach, skirted his bobbing, dripping cock, and settled in to laving cold and hot attention on Draco’s bollocks.

When the ice cube was melted, Harry moved for the bag, and Draco found himself fervently hoping that Harry was reaching for lube, but instead, Harry fetched a second frozen sphere.

Knowing he was at Harry’s mercy, Draco simply anticipated the tease of a lifetime.

This time, Harry took Draco’s cock into his mouth. Draco gave a sharp distressed intake of breath, and Harry removed the cube from his mouth and placed it on Draco’s navel. Then he sucked Draco’s cock for a long moment, his mouth rapidly warming up. But once his mouth was at its regular, sinfully hot temperature once again, Harry plucked up the ice from its pool of cold water and sucked on it again, filling his mouth with the cold of it, getting his tongue and the insides of his cheeks very cold.

But this time when he put the ice down, he shoved his tongue between Draco’s cheeks and wormed his cold, muscular tongue toward Draco’s hole.

Draco screamed in pleasure. Again, Harry only rimmed him until his tongue was hot, then he sucked most of the cold water and the remaining bit of ice into his mouth. Harry moved one hand out of Draco’s field of vision, then wrapped his lips around the head of Draco’s tortured cock. But where was the last bit of ice?

Oh! Draco felt cold, cold fingers, plus something far too cold to be a finger so it must be that last chip of ice, pressing into his arse. As the sliver slowly melted into nothing in his arse, Harry sucked up and down Draco’s cock – a hard, slow rhythm. Draco thought perhaps this time he would come, despite the intense distraction of the melting ice, but Harry’s fingers firmly circled the base of him and he wasn’t allowed to shatter for Harry quite yet.

Too soon, Harry let go of Draco altogether, and Draco felt Harry moving his legs. The restraints clearly would allow Harry to change his position while Draco could only pull at them helplessly. Draco felt a pillow shoved under his arse and knew what was coming.

He stared into Harry’s eyes, and Harry winked at him. Draco was far too overwhelmed to do anything other than return the wink with a goofy smile. 

His ankles were pushed over Harry’s shoulders, there was warm lube, and then there was Harry’s thick cock, pressing on the ring of sensitive muscle. Draco willed himself to open up, to relax, to suck Harry’s cock in and never let go. He felt himself open to Harry’s pressure – and then Harry slid halfway in.

Draco gasped in pain and pleasure. Then the slight burn was gone and Harry was moving within him. Still not quite able to speak, Draco simply gazed into Harry’s eyes. As he’d promised so long before, Harry was slow, gentle, tender. He looked into Draco’s eyes and made love to him.

Draco had never felt so cared for in his life. He felt like a precious vessel, like a treasure. He felt like Harry’s treasure. “Ohh, Harry…” he breathed. “Oh… yes, Harry….”

Draco came. It took him a bit by surprise. Harry’s cock was in his arse and Harry’s hands were on the bed, holding Draco’s hands down. No one was actually touching Draco’s cock. He tried to ask for permission, but he simply didn’t have time even for a proper warning. He started to cry out, and the next thing he knew, his untouched cock was pumping come over his chest. He opened his eyes very wide and saw that Harry was about to come himself. He grabbed Harry’s cock with everything he had and gave Harry the most smouldering look of want he had in his arsenal. Harry filled his arse with come, and Draco felt a little thrill of completion and victory.

Harry whispered something and suddenly, not only was Harry climbing over him, lying next to him, holding him, but the bed had let go and the white cloth fetters were gone.

They lay together in the wide, warm bed. 

“Are you hungry? I think the sunrise is beginning. We could eat a bit and watch the sun rise. It’s beautiful.”

Draco nodded and the two nude men walked slowly, holding hands, to Harry’s kitchen – which faced due East. Harry fetched a plate from his refrigerator, cast _Nox_ at the magical lights above the trees, and they nibbled hard boiled eggs and cut up fruit while they watched a spectacular sunrise.

“Draco, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Draco was careful to remove all traces of alarm from his eyes as he turned to look at Harry.

“Or, well, ask you…. Well, we need to talk.”

“What do you want to talk about, Harry?”

“I trust you, Draco.”

Draco felt something in his throat unconstrict.

“But I don’t trust your father.”

This time, it was amusement that Draco hid from Harry.

“Let’s move to those lounge chairs, all right?”

Draco nodded with a feigned calm. He was busy thinking up ways he could use Harry’s mistrust of Lucius to his own advantage.

They left the kitchen area and sat in the lounge chairs they’d used earlier. Harry dragged his chair closer to Draco’s and sat again. They looked into one another’s faces.

“I know you’re playing chess with me, working this to some advantage or other, but I feel I can trust you anyway. I read you as non-threatening.”

Draco glowered a bit at this, playfully, and Harry kissed him on the nose and smiled.

“But your father, we have some history, he and I. Well, it’s hardly a secret to you, you know who got him sent to jail for fifteen years. I want to know what he’s really up to. I want your permission to perform Legilimency on you and see what your real motives are, and see what you know about his. I don’t feel you are a danger to me, but I need to know that he isn’t before I can go any further with this.”

Draco felt truly nervous now. He couldn’t let Harry into his head! But if he didn’t, would the courtship be over right now? How could he play this and win? He took a deep breath and reached for Harry’s hand.

“Harry… I want you to trust me, very much, but I don’t want you to cast _Legilimens_ on me. Can’t we talk about it, instead?” He gave Harry his most coy, flirtatious smile, lowered and quieted his voice slightly, and hoped his fear didn’t shine through. “Let me keep some secrets, will you?”

Harry smiled at Draco, and Draco brought his voice back to a more normal register.

“Let me tell you myself what I believe Lucius’ intentions are. Yes, you are right that you can’t really trust him. But you can trust me, Harry.”

Draco gripped Harry’s hand tightly and looked toward the rising sun again. He thought about renewing his semi-permanent Sun Block Charm, but his wand was yards away, in a heap of clothing kicked halfway under the bed.

“Lucius’ intentions are two fold. He really does want everything he told you he wants. He’s spoken only the truth to you – a sign of his respect for you, actually. But he hasn’t spoken the whole of the truth. Not everyone would have discerned that, but you’re a good Auror, and you’ve never had reason to trust my father, so I’m not surprised that you have.

“Lucius wants us to marry, then he wants me to spy on and control you. Lucius would move with Mother to France, just as he promised in writing, but it would be in name only, as he is easily capable of Apparating to the Manor or the Ministry five days a week even from there. Even in a few decades he expects to be able to Apparate there daily – though he thinks as he ages he might have to do it in steps.”

Draco smiled warmly at Harry, powerful enough to Apparate the two of them nine thousand miles and then have scorching sex for over two hours.

“But he expects to control you – well, us, actually – for as long as he lives. His political goals aren’t actually all that sinister. He just wants to further his own agenda through you. Manipulate and maneuver you into getting the politicians he likes into power, the laws he likes passed, the things he wants to happen funded. He isn’t trying to become the next Dark Lord or anything. He just wants the Malfoy name to be powerful again. He wants my heir to become Minister of Magic. Because, you see, he’d always wanted **me** to become the Minister.”

Draco smiled sadly. Harry waited, fascinated but patient.

“My father is ashamed of following a loser.”

Draco stroked Harry’s hand with his fingertips, then clasped it again.

“He has never admitted this to me, but I can see it in his eyes, in his bearing. I can hear it in his voice. He’s ashamed that he lost, in part because it means that I have to become your ‘wife.’ But Harry, I **want** to be. I’ve been eager for this ever since my father first suggested it. I don’t intend to whisper political intrigues into your ear. I have no intention of using you to curry political favor. And I am unwilling to allow my father access to you, to us, to our marriage, if we marry. I hope you aren’t upset that I don’t want you to look into my head, Harry, but look into my eyes. See that I am telling you the truth.”

“What if your father finds out that we had this conversation?”

“He can’t punish me, Harry. Not really. He put that letter to Lupin in writing. He’s painted himself into a corner by assuming I would do his bidding without question. Right now, the only person who can really punish me is you. If you don’t believe me, if you walk away from me, it would be….”

“You don’t have to say it. I understand. You don’t want this courtship to end today.”

“Yes. Thank you.” Draco blushed, and Harry felt in his heart and bones he’d had the truth from Draco. Perhaps not every drop of it, but what was held back wasn’t that important right now. Still, he wanted to be sure, without Legilimency. He looked in Draco’s eyes, and took Draco’s other hand as well. He didn’t look into Draco’s mind – which wasn’t easy, as he wanted to – but he stared into Draco’s eyes and saw caring there, and sincerity. He thought he might even see love. He made up his mind.

“Draco, get on my cock and say all of that again."

“Oh… Harry.” Draco’s voice rasped with desire. He knew the bed was silkily comfortable and sand free. He didn’t care to walk there. He stood, turned to straddle Harry, and sat on his thighs. Harry was already mostly hard again, so it didn’t take much. He reached between them and stroked Harry’s cock along with his own while he sucked one of Harry’s fingers. As soon as they were both fully hard, Harry started pulling on Draco’s waist.

Already prepared from earlier, Draco positioned himself carefully and sat down on Harry’s cock. It felt so good, he gasped.

“Ride me while I touch you, and tell me those things again.”

Harry stroked and pulled and caressed Draco’s cock, and Draco opened his mouth. A flood came forth. He said much of what he’d said before, though it was less coherent and the pauses were more frequent. He wanted so desperately to just feel Harry’s beautiful cock, the thickness, the delicious sensations of in and out, Harry’s hands on his cock and Harry’s eyes on his face. But Harry requested and Draco complied. 

It had been a smart request. It was so much harder not to spill every last detail while he was astride his lover, filled with him. It was so much harder to tell those lies of omission. But he couldn’t bear to reveal his last, precious secret, so he managed to keep it safe, despite everything.

They spent the whole day on the island. They rested in the sun, made love more times than Draco could count, swam in the water and touched each other constantly. They ate little snacks from the kitchen and Harry cut open a coconut for them. Strangely enough, watching Harry wield an axe like a common Muggle was as erotic as anything else they did all day.

Eventually the sun was long set, and they had been gone for over fifteen hours. Draco would have loved to spend the night on Ogygia with Harry, but again, Harry didn’t ask. Following Harry’s lead, Draco prepared to leave the island. When everything was gathered and their mess spelled away, Harry took Draco in his arms, and Draco waited. Harry seemed simply to be holding him, and he was so pleased to be held that he said nothing, but simply wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist and smelled Harry’s hair and neck. 

Harry smelled of the sea, and sex – despite the bath they had taken an hour earlier. After all, Harry had looked so good in the tub, and Draco had been wanting to test the necessity of those sand-repelling charms. Making love on the white sand with his knees in the waves had been memorable, but he’d decided that next time they would indeed use the bed.

They were still standing in one another’s arms on Ogygia, and Harry was not Apparating them back to Wiltshire. Draco was determined not to be the one who broke the silence, and so it was a long moment before Harry finally spoke.

“I think…”

Draco waited. Harry stroked Draco’s lower back, sadly now covered with cloth. He loved the feeling of Harry’s rough hands on his pampered skin.

“I think I ought…”

Draco wondered if this was going where he hoped it was. He began to stroke Harry’s back in little circles. He opened his mouth on Harry’s neck and gave a tentative lick.

Harry groaned quietly. “I’m sure we should… go…”

Draco bit gently at the cord of Harry’s neck, barely pulled his mouth away, and said, “Whatever you want, Harry.”

Harry pulled away a bit farther to look Draco in the eye. “Want? I want to light up that bed again and tie you down. I want to come in your mouth one more time. I want to slide my cock into your arse again. I want to sleep with you curled around me all night like a cat. I want you to stay here with me. Will you stay here with me?”

Draco looked right into Harry’s face and spoke with no coyness, no false innocence, no flirtation. “I’m at your mercy, Harry.”

They left in the morning.

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Author’s note. “Draco, get on my cock and say all of that again." belongs to Ravenna C Tan. Her exact words are "Get on my cock, and then say those things again." I swiped it from her story [Race](http://community.livejournal.com/100quills/173768.html) , **with her permission**. [Race](http://community.livejournal.com/100quills/173768.html) is a sequel to [Honor](http://community.livejournal.com/100quills/136922.html) and [Patrimony](http://community.livejournal.com/100quills/161044.html), and while they are of a rather different flavour than Appearances, I highly recommend them. But do read her warnings!


	6. The Weasley Party

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Harry, Draco reflected, seemed quite incapable of planning ahead. Their idyll on Ogygia over, Harry had simply brought Draco home to the Manor, given him a lingering goodbye kiss, stroked his hair once, and Disapparated silently. 

But then Hedwig showed up with a request for a third date – to a Weasley party, of all things – just before dinner. 

Draco was grateful. He’d been confident that an invitation would arrive soon, but the arrival of the actual note would make sitting down to eat with Lucius slightly easier. His mother, having no real agenda of her own, was usually easier to fend off, but she was observant. She fancied herself overwhelmingly concerned for her son’s happiness, and she was perceptive enough to see that Draco was no longer simply following his father’s orders. Draco was grateful she didn’t seem inclined to say anything to Lucius.

They sat together in the breakfast room, where they usually ate if it were just the three of them. The evening sun shone through the tall stone mullioned windows. Once the house-elf was gone, Lucius began his interrogation. Draco wasn’t interested, and carefully placed his serviette in his lap. 

“You did not come home until this afternoon?”

Draco nodded politely, his mouth full of duck.

“You have another invitation?”

Draco simply gave another nod. Lucius’ shoulders relaxed, though it was almost imperceptible. 

His mother broke in, turning her head away from Lucius. “Did you have a nice time, son?”

Lucius gave the briefest flinch of impatience. Draco and his mother both pretended not to see.

“Yes, Mother. Thank you.” Draco’s tone was just a touch dismissive. He’d had a perfect time, and he had no interest in discussing it with his parents.

After dinner Draco smoothed the note out on his writing desk and read it again. This date was going to be slightly tricky. He might need to do some research before Harry picked him up tomorrow night. Luckily, his mother’s eagerness should be helpful. But Harry’s idea for the time before the party filled him with a thrumming tension.

 

My dear Draco,  
I can’t stop thinking about our visit to Ogygia. It was   
even more than I’d hoped it would be.   
I have to see you again. Will you come to a party with   
me at Arthur and Molly Weasley’s home, tomorrow (Monday)   
evening? Charlie and his wife Viorica had their third baby last   
month, and there’s a naming party for him at The Burrow.  
The party doesn’t start until seven, but if I may, I’ll pick   
you up at five. I think we should spend some time alone before   
we go to The Burrow. It will make it a lot easier for me to   
actually visit with the Weasleys.  
Looking forward to seeing you,  
Harry

 

Draco thought about wanking, but decided against it. He would save that for Harry. Sitting down to pen a swift note of acceptance, he paused to think about other preparations he would need to make before he would be ready to attend the party at The Burrow.

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The next afternoon, Draco sat in his apartment, dressed for a Weasley party and looking forward to Harry’s arrival. A few minutes before five, he was surprised by Hedwig’s arrival on his balcony. He took the parchment she proffered and unrolled it. A small brown object fell out as he unrolled it, and he smiled, guessing what it was. Indeed, as soon as he bent and picked up the curved scrap of coconut shell, he felt the tug of a Portkey taking him to Harry.

He arrived in Harry’s front hall. Winky met him there. “Sir will please be following.” 

Silently, Draco and Winky made their way upstairs.

She led him to what Draco remembered was the door to Harry’s bedroom. “Master bids Sir knock,” she said, and vanished with a tiny pop.

Draco drew himself up to his full height and smoothed his shirt slowly. Then he knocked once. A firm knock, neither too loud nor too soft. The door opened slowly, and Draco stepped into the room, wondering what he might see. It was rather dark, and the room was lit only with floating candles. They moved aside for him, and he saw Harry, sitting up in his bed. He was covered to the waist with the sheet, but seemed to have nothing else on. Draco fought a small urge to widen his eyes and drop his jaw. Instead, he smiled.

“Come here, baby.”

Draco did as he was bid, walking to the side of the bed. Harry was in the middle, not quite within easy reach.

“Strip for me, and then go over to that table and choose a toy. We only have two hours, or I would undress you myself.”

Draco raised his left eyebrow at Harry and then – walking over to an armchair – began to undress and neatly fold and put down his clothes. Once nude, he went to the table in the corner to see what “toys” he had to choose from. He found a handsome silver cock ring, a small suede flogger in Gryffindor red and gold, an attractive glass dildo, soft leather bondage cuffs, and a remarkably pretty butt plug fabricated of a substance he could not place. But the one he knew was right the moment he saw it was the black, rabbit-fur blindfold. He felt sure that – even without magic – once he had that thing on, he wouldn’t be able to see anything at all.

He plucked the blindfold from the table and turned to Harry, a question in his eyes.

“I’ll put that on you, baby. Walk over here and sit down next to me.”

Draco sat on the bed, half-hard already from pure anticipation. He handed the blindfold to his lover and leaned forward to submit, eyes closed. He realized he was trembling slightly only when Harry touched him.

Harry secured the blindfold gently and Draco tested it. He’d been right. He couldn’t see a thing, and all that soft fur certainly didn’t make him want to open his eyes. He felt hands on him, one on his upper left arm, the other on his right thigh. He was being gently encouraged to lie down next to Harry. Once Draco was under the sheets and in his lover’s arms, Harry spoke.

“Tell me why you’re trembling.” Harry’s arms were secure and warm around him. The sheets were warm next to Harry, but cool further away.

“I….” Draco wasn’t sure how freely he should speak.

“Are you afraid?” Harry’s hand was in his hair, gentling him like a shying horse.

“No! Ohh, Harry, no. I’m just, this is very….” Eager to touch, he ran a hand down Harry’s arm.

“Please, Draco. Tell me what you’re feeling.” Harry was still stroking his hair. Draco could feel his own heart beating.

Draco decided that this was a time when he could tell the whole truth. He turned within Harry’s embrace, faced Harry and pressed their cocks together. “I am so incredibly turned on, that’s all. You fill me with heat and lust, Harry. You take my breath away.”

“Mmmm.” Harry sounded pleased. “Let me do that literally, then.” And then Harry’s mouth was on Draco’s mouth, and Harry was turning Draco, pressing him down, his back into the bed, Harry straddling him and kissing, kissing, kissing his mouth.

Draco wrapped his arms around Harry’s strong shoulders. He allowed Harry’s soft, wet invasion, feeling the subtle heat of lips and tongue, the occasional nip of teeth, the distracting press of Harry’s cock into his own.

He could feel the sheets slipping off and the cool air on his hot skin. 

He could hear the top sheet slipping quietly down, sliding across his and Harry’s skin, moving over the bottom sheet. 

He could feel Harry’s kisses moving away from his lips and down his neck as he arched into Harry’s licking, nipping mouth.

“What do you feel, lover?”

“I feel your mouth and your hands. Oh, Merlin, Harry, I feel you.”

“Do you want to feel any of those other toys I set out?”

“Oh bloody hell, Harry, please don’t leave the bed!”

Harry’s responding laugh was a warm, satisfied chuckle. “Another time then, pet, another time.”

Harry’s mouth now traveled to Draco’s right nipple, and Draco could feel him licking, sucking, pulling, and oh-so-gently biting there. But he could also feel Harry’s cock pressing into his thigh, right above the knee. He could feel a bit of Harry’s soft black hair tickling his chest. He could feel the warm sheets on his feet and the cool air around most of his left side. He felt the fingers of Harry’s right hand teasing his left nipple, then his stomach, then tantalizingly close to, but not actually touching, his straining cock. He could feel the sheet under him as he attempted to hold onto it, gripping at it with tense, tight hands.

For long, marvelous, difficult minutes, Harry concentrated his attention on Draco’s nipple alone. Then suddenly Harry’s fingers touched Draco’s bollocks, and Draco gasped in hopeful excitement.

“I’m going to give you a choice now, baby. Do you want to come in my mouth, before I fuck you? Or do you want to come into my hand, while I fuck you?”

“I want to come in whatever way gives you the most pleasure.”

Harry growled low and eager, deep in his throat. “Then I’m going to fuck you, pet. I’m going to fuck you hard.”

Draco whined his eagerness and spread his legs. His right was pressing into Harry already but his left was unencumbered, so he bent his knee and pulled his foot far over to the side. “Take me, Harry. Take my arse.”

Harry pulled away and reached off to the side. Draco was hoping for lube but all he knew was what he could feel and hear. Soon, thrilled and relieved, he heard sounds he associated with the type of lube Harry preferred, which came in a funny Muggle contraption with a clicking, flipping top. He heard the lid, heard a slight noise he thought might be a squeeze to the bottle, heard what he hoped was Harry stroking lube onto his hard cock. Draco spread both legs far apart and waited for Harry, who was now doing something that sounded like tossing a bottle into an open drawer.

“Tell me, Draco, is this mine?” Suddenly there were fingers at his arse, a finger slipping smoothly into his arse.

“Do you claim it?”

“I want to, Draco, I want to.”

“Take it, Harry, take me.” Sensing that Harry wanted more, Draco tried again. “Nothing and no one else has been inside me, Harry, not since you. No fingers, no dildos, no men, no one but you.”

Harry groaned and pressed the lubed head of his cock into Draco’s arse.

Draco responded with a small squeak of pleasure and grabbed Harry with his legs. Together, they pushed Harry’s cock the rest of the way into Draco’s body.

And Harry was fucking him, deep and hard and strong. And all Draco could do was touch and feel and hear. The blindfold was soft on his face, Harry was hard in his arse. They were both panting, making tiny groans and little sounds of sex. Harry was growling, and Draco was whining and gasping. The sheets were getting damp with their sweat, while the floating candles were heating and drying the air. Harry’s skin felt smooth under his fingers and Draco could feel the muscles underneath as they bunched and moved. The feeling of Harry’s cock moving in and out of Draco’s eager arse was so good it was staggering.

Draco held on to Harry with his legs, his arms, his hands and his arse. Oh how he adored this: being underneath this man, surrounding this cock, grabbing this muscular torso, stroking this hair, kissing this shoulder. Nothing could compare. 

Then Harry moved a bit, leaned so all his weight was on one arm, and grabbed Draco’s cock with his other hand. He stroked Draco’s cock firmly, and Draco knew he was about to come. 

“May I come, lover?”

“Hold on a bit, Draco. There’s something else I want you to have first.”

Harry changed the angle a bit, once, twice, and then he slammed directly into Draco’s prostate, making Draco scream.

“I found it, did I?”

All Draco could do was nod his assent.

“Let me give you a little more before you come, pet.”

Draco nodded again, beyond words.

Harry found his rhythm and found that spot. With every other thrust, he found it. Draco realized his head was thrashing. He wouldn’t have normally let go so completely, but not being able to see seemed to free him from his normal self-consciousness about how he appeared. It was a welcome release. But he longed for another welcome release and couldn’t help but babble.

“Harry, baby, love this, wanna, come, wanna, now, oh, please, oh! Lover, damn, Merlin, so, so, yes!”

“Come for me, Draco. Come!”

Come shot from Draco’s cock as Harry stroked it so expertly, hit Draco’s sweet spot so unerringly. Draco panted and gasped and moaned and came. And then as the last shocks of his pleasure were fading, Harry began to come. Harry had brought him such pleasure that Draco wished he could somehow touch Harry’s prostate while Harry pounded his arse. He found himself wishing also for a glimpse of Harry’s handsome face as he shot white jets deep into Draco.

When Harry finished coming, Draco expected him to pull away, roll off. But instead, Harry grabbed Draco firmly and pulled him over, onto Harry’s chest. Harry’s cock pulled out in the process, but they were still holding one another closely in every other way. Harry removed Draco’s blindfold and Draco blinked in the dim light, resting his cheek on Harry’s warm, strong chest.

“I can hear your heart beating.”

Harry responded by kissing the top of Draco’s head.

Draco thought about the party they were going to attend soon and knew they needed to shower. But he really, really did not want to get up. He sighed quietly and cuddled a bit closer to Harry for a brief second, then stopped himself, not wanting to be too forward, too obvious.

Suddenly, Harry slapped Draco’s arse playfully and started to get up. “C’mon, lover. Time for round two. In the shower!”

For that, Draco could get out of bed. 

Soon they were in the shower, kissing and soaping each other eagerly. Draco teased Harry about his Muggle shampoo and Harry teased Draco about the handprint that still hadn’t quite faded from his arse cheek. Who had such delicate skin?

But Draco remembered the promise of round two, and he decided to be as active as passivity allowed. He sank to his knees and washed Harry’s arse, balls and cock gently, lovingly, and at length. Before he was even half done, Harry was rock hard again.

Draco thought about asking with words, but wanted to see what he could do with looks alone, so after he’d rinsed Harry clean of soap he stayed on his knees, lifted his head and looked at Harry as coyly as he could. His blond hair was plastered to his head and neck, and the water ran hot and clean all over his face. He opened his mouth and darted out his tongue to taste the water. Harry groaned a bit.

“Of course you can suck me off, lover. All you have to do is ask.”

Draco opened his mouth and took the head of Harry’s cock onto his tongue. He felt the weight of it for a moment. Tried to taste the musk. It was almost gone, but there was still a hint of it, tantalizing him, just beyond the edge of his senses.

Remembering the last time he’d been on his knees in front of Harry, he soaped up a finger and reached for Harry’s hole. Harry widened his stance and leaned up against the wall, closing his eyes, muttering, “Mmm.” Harry was allowing a gentle invasion of his arse, and Draco teased and touched Harry’s arsehole with his finger as he pleasured Harry’s cock with his hot, wet mouth. He couldn’t get enough of bottoming for Harry, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t want to top as well, occasionally. Perhaps someday….

But right now, Harry’s incredibly thick cock was heavy on his tongue, filling his mouth and his right hand. He sucked and stroked and teased and sucked harder. His knees hurt, and his cheeks were a little tired. He knew he’d be a touch sore later, but he didn’t really care. He had a wand; he knew some good charms. All he wanted now was to fill himself with Harry. He moaned at the very thought, and Harry started to fuck his mouth, just a bit, and gently. Like Harry was afraid of hurting Draco.

But Draco was no delicate flower, whatever that handprint on his arse might say. He pulled his finger out of the ring of muscle he’d been carefully teasing and grabbed Harry’s tight arse, pushing Harry’s cock much deeper into his own mouth. 

“Oh, fuck, Draco, can I?”

All Draco could respond with was an enthusiastic, “Mmmhmmm!” But Harry understood. He began to fuck Draco’s mouth harder. Draco felt Harry’s arse muscles flexing, felt Harry trying to shove his thick cock all the way into Draco’s throat, felt his own hand, wrapped securely around the base, stopping Harry from forcing him to deep throat.

Soon, Harry was pumping come into Draco’s mouth. Draco swallowed as much as he could. The rest was washed away by the shower. Harry took a moment to recover from his orgasm, then pulled Draco up for a deep, fierce kiss. With his left arm wrapped around Draco tightly, holding him close and keeping him steady on his feet, Harry reached for Draco’s hard cock.

Draco moaned into Harry’s open mouth and let the pleasure wash over him as thoroughly as the hot water from the showerhead. Soon, his come was also washing down the drain, and Harry was holding him tightly, kissing him even more lovingly than before. Overwhelmed, Draco allowed his head to rest on Harry’s shoulder.

“You all right there, pet?”

“By the Standing Stones, lover. You’ve killed me.” He smiled into Harry’s neck.

“I’d love to nap with you, but we don’t have time. We should really get dressed for the party.”

“As you wish.”

Harry growled a bit. “You trying to get me hard enough for round three, Draco?”

Draco hadn’t been, but he batted his eyelashes at Harry anyway, giving his most simperingly obvious seductive look. 

Harry laughed and kissed Draco’s nose. 

They stepped out of the shower and grabbed towels that Winky had warmed with charms. Once they were dry and dressed, with combed hair and a wrapped gift for the baby that Harry taken from the dining room table, they went to the main fireplace to Floo to The Burrow.

“Should I go first?” Draco wondered.

“I guess… wait. There’s something I want to ask you first.”

“Anything, Harry.”

“I love that. You know I do.” Draco did know it. And he loved the look it brought to Harry’s eyes, and the way Harry would kiss him when he said things like that. But he made sure his face was innocent of all these thoughts and kept all the pictures out of his mind.

Harry smouldered for a moment, then continued. “I would like you to sleep here tonight. Will you?”

“Yes, my lover.” Draco pressed himself in, kissed Harry’s lips, but then pulled away. “Except, I should…”

“What is it, baby?” Genuine confusion bloomed on Harry’s face.

“I’ll just need to owl my father first. Can I borrow your owl? It’s just a formality you know, a courtesy, really, but he will have his little controls.”

Harry was scowling slightly as he turned to call for Hedwig. Draco schooled all traces of emotion from his appearance.

Harry handed him quill and parchment, and Draco prepared a short note for his father. There was no need to hide what he wrote, or disguise it in any way. Lucius would eat this up, never suspecting it was actually for Harry, and for a reason that ran counter to his own purposes. Hedwig took an Owl treat and flew away with the letter, as the men Flooed to The Burrow.

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They hadn’t been at the party long at all before they got separated. Draco got drawn into a conversation with Fleur, who was thrilled to find someone with whom she could converse in French, while Harry got dragged into the garden by both of the twins, who were eager to show off a new type of firework they had invented for their shop.

After spending almost half an hour outside with the twins, Harry felt it was only right that he go check on Draco. He was amazed at what he saw when he found the blond. Draco was sitting on a chair in the kitchen, holding Charlie and Viorica’s four-week-old son. Viorica was sitting next to Draco and the two of them were laughing like old friends. Harry overheard just enough to realize that Vi was telling Draco about how, despite all her experience with baby boys, this one had still managed to pee all over her the first time she’d changed his nappy. 

Imagine, Draco Malfoy laughing about baby piss and holding a newborn like a pro. Harry knew he would be carrying that image in his mind for days. Then Draco cuddled the new baby close to his face and kissed the tiny child on the forehead. Harry leaned against the doorjamb. That was an image he would carry in his heart for far longer.

“You’ve got it pretty bad, don’t you, honey?” 

“Hermione, you have a real gift, you do know this, right?”

“Comes with motherhood.”

“No, I think you’ve had it since you were eleven. At least. Yes, I think I might just have it _pretty bad_ , as you say. He’s extraordinary. He makes me feel extraordinary.”

“What are you thinking you’ll do for his birthday?”

Harry whipped his head away from the lovely picture of Draco with the baby and finally looked Hermione in the eye. “Birthday?”

Hermione chuckled quietly. “Yes, Harry. His birthday is soon. June fifth, I think it is.”

“How in the hell do you know when his birthday is, and how in the hell did I not?!”

“I’ve always had a memory for detail, Harry. I take it he hasn’t mentioned it?”

Harry shook his head. A look of mild dismay had spread across his face.

“Well, you’ve well over a week to plan something; I wouldn’t fret too much.”

Hermione patted his hand, and Harry vowed to talk to Draco about this. But it would have to be later. Right now, Charlie seemed to be trying to gather everyone for the naming ceremony. 

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As Charlie and Vi had met working at the Dragon Reservation in Romania, their sons had dragon names. Jilocasin was seven, Abraxas was almost four, and they named the baby Irizim. Harry had brought a wooden rattle, charmed to fly around the baby and eat bugs. Since Charlie and Vi loved to camp, hike and generally be outdoors with their boys, he thought it might come in handy.

Everyone who wanted held Rizi, and Harry had as much fun chasing Jilo and Brax around the garden as he always had with Gideon and Orion. Indeed, he had earned the honorary Uncle position through a million games of tag, catching tons of boys who’d climbed too high, Healing a thousand skinned knees, and playing countless games of low-flying Quidditch. 

Resting on his back in the garden for a few minutes after most of the grandchildren had Flooed home, Harry reflected again on the idea that he might be a parent soon himself. The idea brought him great joy.

But it was probably time to go home, and he hadn’t seen Draco in well over an hour, so he got up and went to find his lover.

What he found astonished him. He first saw Fred, hiding outside a kitchen window under a Disillusionment Charm that didn’t do much for him outdoors in the slanting late evening sun, but would make him invisible through the window.

Draco was sitting in the kitchen with Arthur and Molly, telling them something they clearly found fascinating. All three of them had their profiles to the window, so Harry could see all three of their faces. Harry unashamedly Disillusioned himself too, and listened in with Fred on an Extendable Ear.

“I suppose it’s hard to see, but yes, Arthur. My father has for decades been deeply envious of you, and the life you have here with Molly.”

Harry gave Fred a look of surprise, but Fred made a motion that Harry should just keep listening.

“Can you explain that, Draco? Your father has, please pardon my frankness, always treated me with great contempt.” From what Harry could see of Arthur’s face, he appeared to be trying to give Draco the benefit of the doubt, but with difficulty.

“Because he envies you. More specifically, he envies you your six, healthy, pure-blooded sons. Father always hoped for a large family, but a couple of years after I was born, my baby brother died in my mother’s womb.”

Draco gave a sad sigh before he continued.

“It turns out that my mother is a very rare witch indeed. Almost all magical folk have what the Healers call positive blood. Mother’s blood is negative. I don’t fully understand it, but – like most of us – Father’s blood is positive, and almost any child they would have would also have this type of blood. Mother’s body attacked the positive blood of any baby she carried after me. I was safe because I was the first, apparently.”

“Why can’t the Healers fix it?” Molly’s distress was practically tangible. No mother was comfortable hearing about sick and dead babies.

“Well,” Draco continued, “that’s the really tragic part. They probably could have. But the only solution they have is a Muggle one, and my father just couldn’t accept it. It would involve Mother taking some sort of Muggle potion into her body, with a tiny metal stick. And the substance itself wasn’t just created **by** and **for** Muggles; it was actually created **from** Muggles. They use a substance from Muggles themselves, and St. Mungo’s just buys this stuff from the Muggle Healers and uses it like the Muggles do. They get almost no call for it so they weren’t going to reinvent the stuff just to satisfy my father’s pure-blood prejudices.”

Draco looked genuinely sad. Molly looked utterly stricken. Arthur looked contemplative.

“Mother wanted to take the potion but Father forbade it, and Mother can’t defy Father in something like this. Their marriage contract makes it impossible.”

Draco stretched a bit before leaning both arms back on the table.

“So, there you have it. That’s why I’m an only child, and that’s why Lucius Malfoy has hated you both for almost thirty years. He has more money, he’s had more influence and power for years, he’s had everything that he thought mattered, in greater quantity than you ¬– except the one thing he couldn’t have. An army of tall, healthy sons to raise for his Lord.”

Molly flinched. Draco gave her a look of sympathy and understanding. He patted her hand gently before he went on.

“But you have six sons, more than any other wizards of your generation, pure-blood or half-blood. And they were as far out of the reach of Lucius and the Dark Lord as if they were born to Dumbledore himself. You’ve always infuriated my father, Arthur. Really, I hope it gives you a bit of pleasure.”

As Molly evinced a bit of disapproval and Arthur seemed to bite back a touch of amusement, Harry let go of the Extendable Ear and removed the Disillusionment Charm as he walked toward the other side of the house.

Fascinating. Truly fascinating.

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Pretending he’d been in the garden the whole time, Harry walked in through the other door and feigned happy surprise at finding Draco cozied up with Arthur and Molly in the kitchen. 

The men made their goodbyes and Flooed home to Harry’s in London.

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The party had begun at seven, and they’d been just about the last to leave, so it was late enough to go right to bed. Harry grabbed a pair of silky pyjama bottoms for Draco to borrow, and the two changed into their night clothes separately, in the bathroom. Draco had, of course, brought nothing, but Harry had things he could use. Draco spared a moment for jealousy when he saw the collection of new, sealed toothbrushes and Muggle-style razors in Harry’s bathroom, but dismissed it. He was the only one in Harry’s bed right now, whomever may have come before, and Harry had told Lucius flat-out that the _Prophet’s_ reports of his bedroom conquests were worse than exaggeration.

Once done in the bathroom, Draco Transfigured the pillowcase from a high–thread-count cotton, to a heavy satin of woven silk.

Harry emerged from the bathroom as Draco was putting his wand back on the bedside table.

“Draco? What did you do to my pillowcase?”

Draco was non-plussed. “Oh, that cotton would have irritated my ear, so I made the fabric smoother.”

“Draco, Winky put my best sheets on for you. They’re very nice sheets.” He looked a bit affronted.

Draco walked over to Harry and put his arms around the other man. He kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Yes, they are. But believe me, the pillowcase would have irritated my ear.”

Harry chuckled. “What are you, the princess with the pea under her mattress?”

Draco recognized the reference and tried not to get annoyed.

“I’m hardly a princess, I just have sensitive ears. I know how to take care of the problem, so I did.”

“By Merlin’s beard, baby. How did you handle ten months in Azkaban?”

Draco glowered. He hated remembering prison. “Badly. Can we talk about something else, please?”

Harry felt bad immediately. He swung them both onto the bed and pulled Draco into the vee of his legs. They faced each other and Draco allowed Harry to mollify him with a few kisses. He felt it as they both grew somewhat hard from the contact between their warm mouths, bare chests and covered cocks.

“Why didn’t the bed on Ogygia need changing?”

“Those sheets were already made of silk.”

Harry got a faraway look on his face. “Oh yeah… they were, weren’t they?”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Draco made his thoughts clear with a press of his hips. He and Harry were both rather hard now.

“I sure as hell am now, baby.”

Harry pulled off his own and Draco’s pyjama bottoms quickly, and grabbed the lube. “I have to go to work in the morning, so this is going to be faster than I’d like it to be, but I need to be inside you.”

Draco simply spread his legs and grinned silkily in response.

Harry lubed his cock and pressed on Draco’s tiny, furled hole. Draco’s body opened quickly for Harry, and they both sighed in pleasure as Harry shoved halfway inside in one hard stroke.

“Fuck… how can you still feel so tight after all this fucking, baby?”

“Magic, Harry. C’mon. Fuck now, talk later.” Draco suddenly realized that was hardly a passive, acquiescent response. “Please?” he placated.

But Harry didn’t seem annoyed, perhaps because he was now buried to the root in Draco’s tight little arse. “Hold on for the ride, lover.”

Harry began to fuck Draco hard and fast, aiming, it seemed, for a quick climax for them both. After a few experimental strokes, he slammed Draco’s prostate, and Draco made sure to reward him with a yelp of pleasure. Once Harry knew exactly where it was, he hit it nearly every time, and soon Draco was concentrating on not coming in great spurts all over his own chest.

“I’m about to come, baby; I want you to come with me.”

Harry pistoned rapidly in and out of Draco’s arse, and as soon as he keened the start of his orgasm, Draco let go of his control and began to come as well. The lovers came together and soon found themselves collapsed in a messy heap on the expensive sheets that Winky had put out just for Draco.

Draco wondered again for a moment at his own luck: to be Harry’s lover, to sleep with him in Harry’s bed. To spend another night cuddled close to the one man every witch and wizard alive would like to have over for coffee or a pint.

“I’m so tired, baby. Spoon with me?”

They slept like puppies, taking up very little of the bed, wrapped around each other and holding one another all night long.

In the morning, they both woke smiling.

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After Harry had showered and they’d shared some breakfast, Harry made it clear that he wanted Draco to stay as long as he wished.

“Of course I mean it, pet. You haven’t had your shower yet, and you look a little tired anyway. Why don’t you take a little nap? Get some more use out of that pillowcase of mine that you’ve mangled.”

Harry grinned at the mock-angry look that Draco shot across the toast.

“I really have to be at work soon, but it will make me happy to think of you here while I’m out fighting the bad guys. Please?”

“Of course, Harry. You’re a very gracious host, and a nap does sound lovely.”

Five hours later he was pretending to be on the verge of leaving, when Harry Flooed home from work as early as he could manage to sneak away.

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	7. The Dressing Room and The Ministry Party

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Harry left a smirking, toast-eating and entirely too enticing Draco at his table wearing a borrowed dressing gown and proceeded to rush distractedly through his workday. He hadn’t asked Draco to stay, and Draco hadn’t offered, but he couldn’t help but try to get home before Draco left. He spent the whole workday getting sidetracked by wistful hopes and by recollections that filled his cock with blood and his senses with memory. He skipped lunch to get home earlier.

Harry got almost nothing of his regular work done, but as he’d worked many, many extra hours the week before he brought Draco to Ogygia, he felt he could permit himself this day of inattention. However, he did manage to slip off to the Records department to check on something not strictly within his standard purview. 

He Flooed home – _very_ early – to find Draco right in front of the fireplace, dressed to leave, and sitting at the table to quill a short note goodbye.

Harry wrapped his arms around his lover from behind. Draco pretended surprise, despite the noise Harry had made coming through the fireplace.

“Harry!”

Harry didn’t even bother to speak. He just bent over Draco and buried his nose in his lover’s neck.

“You startled me!” 

“Sorry, baby.” But the apology was clearly just talk. Draco could tell the man was too glad to be with him again to be sorry about anything. Draco stood up and pushed the chair away roughly with his foot. Then he turned and stood within the circle of Harry’s arms. Now he could see the happy relief Harry wore all over his face and body language.

Draco couldn’t help but feel smug. Harry had to be utterly besotted to be grateful and relieved that Draco was still there after all this time. Otherwise he would have realized that it meant Draco was as smitten with Harry as Harry was with him.

“Hey, what are you doing Sunday after next?” 

Draco was taken aback by the oddity of the question. Harry never thought that far ahead. Then something clicked. “June fifth, you mean? Harry, have you been doing research on me?” He punctuated his sentence with a playful grab at Harry’s hair.

“Well, just a little.” Harry gave Draco a little hug, then let go of him to put down his briefcase. “I had to go down to records to check that Hermione was right about your birthday. She was, too.” Harry shook his head a bit at the phenomenon that was Hermione.

“Well, as it happens, I don’t yet have any plans.” Draco sat down gracefully in a chair in front of Harry’s dining room table.

Harry threw his outer robes on another chair and sat on the table itself with his legs swinging. “Spend the day with me?”

“I’d love to!” Draco smiled up at him and leaned back slightly, showing his jawline and chest off to good advantage. “But… wait.” Draco allowed himself a tiny frown of concern. “Didn’t you tell me you have to work the first weekend of every month?” 

“I switched with Lionel, in case you would be willing to spend your birthday with me.” 

Draco smiled again, more broadly now. “Well, aren’t you the cocky one?”

“Mmm. Maybe so.” Harry pulled at Draco, who stood and allowed himself to be manipulated into Harry’s embrace again. “After all, I do have one cock.” He put his hands on Draco’s arse and their cuddle became sexual immediately. “Two if this one is mine.” He reached in between them and stroked Draco’s firming cock for a moment. “Can I claim this one too?”

“Oh lover.” Draco gave him a little swat and pulled his hips away an inch. “I have to go home. I was about to leave when you arrived.”

“Stay.” Harry’s voice was playful but serious. His hands rested casually but possessively on Draco’s hips. He clearly expected Draco to do as he asked.

“My father is expecting me to return home and report on last night.”

Harry’s frown was sudden and intense. He radiated impatience.

“You’re a grown man, Draco. He can wait.”

“I’m very loyal to my family, Harry. And right now, Lucius is the head of my family.” The implications of that statement were so blatant that Draco made sure to keep his face and body language mild and calm. It wouldn’t do to bait.

But Harry saw the implications and went for them. “And if I were the ‘head of your family’?”

“I would do as you wanted.” Still Draco was calm and composed.

“Well, right now I want you to go up to my bedroom with me and let me take off every stitch of your clothing and lick every inch of your body.”

Draco allowed himself a natural reaction to this. He groaned quietly and lay his head on Harry’s shoulder, facing Harry’s neck.

But then he knew he had to speak. “Harry, Lucius is still the head of my family, and I need to obey.”

“But he wants **me** to take over that role, doesn’t he? So he’ll have to do without you for a few more hours. I’ve been hard for you all damn day. Kiss me.”

Draco obeyed. He allowed Harry to pull his hips in toward Harry’s now hard cock. He lifted his head and tipped it to allow Harry access to his open mouth. He put his arms around his lover and kissed the other man, enjoying Harry’s passion, power and desire.

Harry pulled his lips away for a moment. “Your parents want to know where you are? You don’t want them to worry? This is fine. This I am comfortable with.” He fished his wand out and flicked it, conjuring a huge, glowing stag. 

Draco stared at the beautiful, ephemeral creature. It stared right back at him. Then, it gave him a slight nod. Draco wasn’t sure the nod had really happened, till he turned and saw a new sparkle in Harry’s eyes.

“Tell Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, Malfoy Manor, Salisbury, Wiltshire, that their son Draco is with Harry Potter and could not be more safe. He will return to them when **I** say so, and not before.”

The stag bowed elegantly, then reared back, wheeled, and galloped away through the walls of Harry’s house, heading southwest.

Draco could not help but be impressed. Instead of letting it show, however, he took a teasing tone and challenged Harry. “When you say so, and not before? Am I your captive, my big scary Auror?” He batted his eyelashes in a manner he knew was both appealing and, at the same time, slightly ridiculous on him.

Harry gave him a slight, playful punch to the upper arm.

“Sorry ‘bout that, pet. I just… your father doesn’t exactly bring out the best in me. You’ll leave when you want to leave, not when I say so. But I want it to be for your own reasons, not your father’s reasons. Do you understand?”

Harry’s earnest look made Draco want to smile. How could he have fallen so hard for such a… Gryffindor?! 

“Yes, lover, of course I understand,” he replied. Draco allowed Harry to bring him upstairs and strip him slowly, kiss him breathless, stoke him near to blazing and then sate him within an inch of his life.

A hundred miles away, Lucius Malfoy was startled by the arrival of a silver stag with a curious, but nonetheless extremely promising, message. Whatever mind game his son was playing with Potter, it seemed to be working. 

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They fell asleep together and woke, hungry for a late lunch, in the mid-afternoon. Winky set a hearty meal in front of them and they ate in toweling robes, fresh from a brief shared shower.

“Baby, will you come to a bit of a do with me this week? On, er, Friday night, I think? And then spend the night after? The Ambassador to the Caribbean is retiring and they’re having a dinner function to welcome her back and thank her. It’s just the sort of thing I’d love to have your help with, and I also think having you there with me will make it a lot more fun.”

Draco realized that if he went to something so public with Harry that their relationship would be all over the _Prophet_. After all, they’d made the cover on their first date, and it had already been over a week since then. Of course that wasn’t a lot of time, but Harry was a sure seller and the _Prophet_ was as yellow as a rag could get. Not to mention the truth was plenty salacious all by itself. Once the paper obtained not rumours and innuendo, but real photos of Harry and him, taken two weeks after the last set, his new position would be almost secured. No one had spent two full weeks in Harry’s romantic company since Ginny Weasley had moved to Australia, and the entire wizarding world knew it.

“I’d love to accompany you, Harry,” he said sweetly. “What sort of help would you like?”

“I want your help with the press, my superiors in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and the upper echelons of the Ministry. People are constantly trying to get me to do stuff I don’t want to do, support causes I don’t agree with, help out some complete stranger’s career, get some fawning sycophant in the newspaper… it goes on and on. Basically, just what your father said I needed, that you’d be good at.”

Draco smiled. He wasn’t good; he was the best. “I would love to help you with all of that, Harry.”

“Great! Then we should start by going shopping. I think I need new stuff to wear to this dinner. All right?”

Draco nearly lost his control and laughed out loud. At least Harry had a grasp of how deeply his incompetence with such things ran, and where Draco’s strengths lay. “Certainly,” he answered, and that was all he needed to say.

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Two and a half hours later they were in a fine shop that Draco liked very well and Harry had, of course, never previously heard of. They’d been there quite a while, and Draco had managed to convince Harry to purchase two Muggle-style outfits, but Harry was still only willing to buy one new set of formal robes. Perhaps that was to be expected, as it had taken quite some time to find even one set that was remotely acceptable.

“Darling, please, I’m sick of this. Won’t _these_ do?” Harry whined. Then he looked sheepish, as though even he knew he was being ridiculous.

Draco merely raised an eyebrow at him. In return, Harry gave him a bemused and contemplative smile.

“Draco?” The blond nodded at him to go ahead and ask.

Harry reached over with one hand and smoothed two fingers over Draco’s left eyebrow. It relaxed under Harry’s gentle touch.

“Why do you always raise your _left_ eyebrow?”

Draco seemed slightly taken aback. Then he laughed warmly. Harry rested happily in Draco’s laughter for a moment, then tipped his head slightly and raised both of his own eyebrows, saying nothing. He simply smiled and waited for an answer.

Draco finally replied. “It’s just an amusing question. One that no one else has asked.” He ran his fingers through his lover’s messy black hair, then relaxed against the back wall of the changing room.

“It’s purely an issue of muscle control, that’s all. I have a bit more control over the left side of my face. I’m not actually _able_ to raise my right eyebrow alone.”

Harry stepped close to Draco, caging him inside his arms, and smiled at him widely, indulgently. Draco recognized the look and crowed to himself inside, where Harry would never see it. Harry’s was the look of someone so besotted that every silly little thing about their lover made them fall more deeply in love. Draco decided to milk it a bit, have some fun.

“You seem amused, Harry, but can you raise _either_ of your eyebrows? Individually, I mean.” Draco reached out a thumb to trace very lightly over Harry’s left eyebrow. Harry closed his eyes and leaned involuntarily into his touch.

“Mmmm… I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve ever tried.” Both of Harry’s eyebrows went up. “There, how’s that?” He sounded terribly pleased with himself.

Draco tried not to laugh at Harry. He truly did. He just didn’t try very hard. It wasn’t long before Harry was pressing him into the wall, tickling him, and they were laughing, helplessly, together. Then Harry stopped laughing just enough to kiss Draco’s mouth and they eagerly changed direction. Draco’s outer robes had come off long before, and now Harry pulled the other man’s shirt out of his trousers.

Harry’s hands were on Draco’s back, sides, one now reaching around for his nipple. “You feel like silk, pet.”

Draco found himself wishing there was a sturdy shelf that Harry could perch him on.

“I want to fuck you.” Harry’s voice was now low, quiet, drenched with lust.

“Claim me, Harry.” Draco moaned.

Harry waved his wand at the door, warding it. Draco noted the lack of a Silencing Charm and made an attempt to cast one both non-verbally and wandlessly. It wasn’t very strong at all, but he was quickly distracted enough to forget all about the idea.

Harry had already been half-undressed when he started tickling Draco, and he quickly shed the rest of his clothes. Then he removed Draco’s trousers but left Draco’s shirt on, unbuttoned, hanging from his white, muscular shoulders.

Spitting into his right hand, Harry lubed his cock as best he could under the circumstances while simultaneously licking and blowing on Draco’s neck.

Then Harry pulled Draco’s legs up and pressed the thinner man against the wall. “Tell me if you need more spit, baby.”

Eyes closed, head lolling back, Draco could only nod. His arse was still slightly slippery from their lovemaking earlier that day, despite the shower. Harry’s cock slid in more easily than either of them expected. 

“Touch yourself, beautiful. I’m too busy holding you up.”

Indeed, Harry’s hands were secure under Draco’s thighs, which were gripping Harry’s sides.

Wrapping his legs as firmly around Harry as he could, and hanging off Harry’s neck with his left arm, Draco eagerly reached for his own rosy, hard cock. Harry’s thrusts were fast and shallow due to their position, and he didn’t pull out very far, but his thick cock was still pressing into Draco’s sweet spot every time and sliding in and out so marvelously through that sensitive ring of muscle and nerves.

Draco toyed with himself a bit, wanting to put off coming for a few more moments, until Harry was closer to his own orgasm, but he was so sensitive after all the fucking, and Harry’s cock felt so incredible inside him, and he was in love with this man. He went to bite Harry’s neck, something he’d noticed the other man liked a great deal. 

“You feel good inside me, lover,” Draco murmured. Harry kissed him.

“You make me want to come, you know.” Draco’s voice was raspy, seductive. “I love feeling your cock drive in and out of me. Your cock is so fucking thick, Harry. I love the way it feels in my body. That’s the real reason I’m so tight for you, you know, because your cock is like the fucking Tower of London in my arse.”

Harry chuckled quietly, never letting up on his shallow, driving rhythm. 

“I’d take you anywhere, you know that.” Draco’s voice was intense. “All you have to do is snap your fingers.”

He stroked the back of Harry’s neck. Harry made a purring growl and Draco kept talking.

“I want to visit you at work some time. I want to walk in the door and drop underneath your desk. Not say a word, just undo your zip and suck your gorgeous cock into my throat. Or have you bend me over your desk, not even undo my robes, just throw them over my head and shove your cock into my tight, eager hole. I’ll come all lubed and prepared for you already, and you won’t have to say anything. It will all be about you, your cock, your needs.”

Harry gave him a commanding smile, and Draco nibbled on Harry’s neck once more, then licked a hot path which cooled rapidly as his tongue moved toward Harry’s sensitive earlobe. Then he interrupted himself to tell Harry more, all the while stroking the rock hard head of his own cock, giving himself pleasure but forcing himself not to adopt a rhythm that would bring him off. He wouldn’t come without permission today.

“That first time, in my house, when I took my jumper off for you? I really wanted to take off everything, show you everything, bend over and spread for you like a slut. If you had pushed me to the floor and thrown my legs over your shoulders I would have opened for you, I’d have whimpered and moaned and sobbed for you. I’d have defied my father and let you take me any way you wanted, in front of the fire, over the side of my father’s favorite chair… and I’d have come jets too. Great pulsing jets of come all over my father’s favorite chair, and all you’d have to have done was push me down. You wouldn’t even have had to ask. You make me want to submit, lover. You make me love it.”

Harry was groaning. “You trying to make me come, pet?”

“Fuck yes, Harry.” Draco readjusted himself slightly, to avoid a cramp, and both men gasped at the new sensation. “I love the feeling of your come pumping into me. I love watching you lose control and give me everything your body has. It’s the best power trip a sub can have. I feel you come into my body and I know I did that, I made you feel that good, I gave your beautiful, thick, rock-hard cock, such pleasure that you couldn’t help but come undone and lose it in my arse, my mouth, me.”

Harry didn’t stop his relentless rhythm but he pulled his face away and looked Draco in the eye for a moment, silent. Then he said, “Then you’d better get more serious about that hand job you’re giving yourself, if you want to come while I’m still hard inside you.”

Draco did not need to be told twice. He got a firm grip on his aching, needy cock and stroked himself, fast and rough. He reached for Harry’s mouth with his own and they kissed, deep and tender and sweet. All the while Harry’s cock was driving in, out, in and out of the ring and push, push, pushing on Draco’s sweet spot. The contrast between these three sensations was surely enough to make him come. Add permission from his top and it didn’t take long at all. In moments he was coming all over his hand and Harry’s gorgeous six-pack abs. 

Harry hadn’t come yet. His rhythm never faltered through Draco’s moaning, gasping screams. But when Draco was finished coming, Harry looked him deep in the eyes. “Hold on, baby. It’s my turn.”

It didn’t take long, but it was intense. Harry, unbelievably, sped up and began to fuck Draco both harder and faster, pushing his back into the wall of the dressing room with every thrust.

Soon he was coming, gasping his pleasure into his lover’s neck, and pumping what felt like a pint of seed into Draco.

Somehow, when it was over, Draco found himself with two feet back on the floor, holding onto Harry who was still pushing his body into the wall. 

“I told you that you’d enjoy shopping with me,” he told Harry smugly.

“That you did, my sweet little arse, that you did.” Harry gave Draco a playful slap and the two men got dressed. They still needed to find the right formal robe for Friday night’s function, but he hoped that the sex would have improved Harry’s mood enough to make him willing to keep trying things on till they found it.

Perhaps it was luck, perhaps it was Draco’s own improved mood, but the perfect dress robes were soon found, and they made their way to the counter to buy everything they had chosen for Harry.

After Harry paid, he made a beeline for the door, but Draco lingered. The owner knew him well, and she waited quietly for him to speak.

“Beth.” He began. And she nodded respectfully. Lucius and Draco were among her best customers. Harry stood nearby, looking slightly confused. He was almost certainly close enough to hear.

“Mr. Potter and I will be attending the reception for retiring Ambassador Melamed at the Ministry on Friday of this week. I’m sure you know that Mr. Potter works at the Ministry and does not need any embarrassment. I want you to be sure that anything that may have happened here today, say – in your dressing room – doesn’t end up in tomorrow’s newspaper.” He tilted his head and gave her a piercing look.

“I understand you completely, Mr. Malfoy.” Harry looked pleased and relieved. It had not occurred to him to worry about their loud, poorly Silenced shagging getting in the papers. How wonderful that Draco had.

Draco nodded to Beth and moved toward Harry, who escorted him out of the shop, a hand on the small of his back. Thank the Standing Stones for Slytherin shopkeepers and Gryffindor prey.

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The dinner started at 6:30 in the evening on Friday, so Draco and Harry made plans to meet at Harry’s house at 5pm sharp. Draco would have liked to start getting them ready considerably earlier, but Harry simply didn’t feel he could plan to get away from work a moment earlier.

Between saying goodbye to Harry after they shopped on Tuesday and meeting up with Harry again on Friday, Draco made sure to keep up his physical and emotional control exercises, but he also did research on the Ambassador and everyone he could think of who should be there. He needed to impress Harry. Deeply. They were sure to make a big splash in the papers the next day and he wanted Harry to be happy about it, not dismayed.

On Friday afternoon, Draco Apparated to Harry’s doorstep at a few minutes before five, and Winky let him in. She was taking his packet of fancy clothes to Un-Shrink and iron when Harry Apparated into the room. Smoothly dropping his briefcase and Auror robe on the floor, he strode the few steps to his lover and crushed Draco against the wall with a whole-body kiss.

“Come upstairs. I’ve been hard for you since Tuesday. I have to fuck you before we leave or I’ll be a gibbering wreck at the reception for Ambassador Melamed.”

Draco found he couldn’t argue with Harry’s logic, so he wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck and pressed his hardening cock into Harry’s hip.

A moment later they were in Harry’s bedroom, tearing off their own clothes in a frenzy. Harry took even less care with his clothing than Draco did and was done a moment sooner. “I’m gonna make you come so hard your ears will ring for an hour.”

“How do you want me?” Draco ripped off his last sock.

“On my bed, on your knees.”

Draco scrabbled into position and felt his cock throbbing with lust. _How he makes me feel!_ He wondered at himself while Harry fetched the lube and climbed up onto the large bed. _I have to settle this tonight. This function is my best chance to convince him to marry me._

Draco’s thoughts were interrupted by Harry’s hand on his hip, Harry’s lubed cock at his hole. “Can I just fuck you, baby? Do you need a little foreplay first?”

“I always love it, Harry, but I don’t need it and we don’t have time.” Draco tried to be calm but Harry hesitated and suddenly Draco couldn’t stop himself from begging. “And I’m gagging for your cock, so fuck me already!”

“Not very passive today, are you?” Harry laughed. But he pushed his fat cock halfway into Draco’s body in one firm thrust.

Harry wrapped one lubed hand around Draco’s cock and aimed for Draco’s prostate with his cockhead. He found it quickly and Draco let him know he’d succeeded with a loud moan.

“Been thinking for two days,” Harry panted, “about you coming into my office and slipping under my desk to suck me down your throat.”

“Tell me?” 

Harry began to thrust harder. “So fucking hard to work!”

Draco was rocking back onto his lover’s steel-hard cock.

Harry continued. “Been interrupted constantly by thoughts of you bent over my desk.”

Draco knew they were in a hurry, knew Harry needed to be on time for the Ambassador, and knew he wanted his lover’s come and pleasure to fill his arse. He squeezed Harry as best he could with his body, and Harry sped up again, yelling out, “Love – your – tight – arse!” Harry came explosively into Draco. Draco felt Harry jet and pulse and then collapse onto his back. Then Harry flipped Draco over, held Draco in his arms, and licked and sucked on Draco’s neck while he pulled Draco off to a spectacular and satisfying orgasm.

Astonishingly, they were perfectly on time to the function at the Ministry. Which is to say, they were quite fashionably fifteen minutes late, but no later.

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As they approached the doors to the ballroom, they saw the photographers, the flashbulbs, the crowd, the line of people entering the room. “Harry, go visit the loo down the hall for a moment before you go in. I need to talk to the photographer from the _Prophet_.”

Harry looked bemused but he kissed Draco’s cheek and vanished down the hall. Draco snuck up behind a small man who looked familiar. Draco was pretty sure he’d been at Hogwarts with the man and that he was a Gryffindor. Greevy? Creeley? No. It was Creevey. 

“Creevey. A moment?”

The photographer turned and looked at Draco. “Lord Malfoy!”

“That would be my father, actually. May I offer you an exclusive photograph of Harry and I?”

“And in return?”

Draco gave a genuine smile. Even Gryffindors could learn.

“You alone will take it, one posed photo only, and you and your colleagues will then all leave Harry and I alone for the rest of the evening.”

“I can promise to leave you alone personally, but how am I supposed to keep the other photographers from bothering you?”

“You offer them a copy of the photo, of course. The _Prophet_ publishes it tomorrow, then you sell it to _Witch Weekly_ and whomever else wants it after your boss runs it first.”

“And if they don’t go for it?”

“See that they do, Mr. Creevey. Mr. Potter is not an attention seeking man, as I’m sure you remember from Hogwarts. I’d hate to have to explain to him that we couldn’t come to these functions anymore and have any time away from the flashbulbs. Mr. Potter values his privacy greatly. He would stop attending formal functions if it were the only way to ensure his privacy.”

 _Of course, Harry would do nothing of the sort,_ Draco mused to himself. _Harry came to these things as an extension of his job responsibilities and would be stuck with them for years to come. But Creevey almost certainly didn’t know that, not tonight anyway. And one had to use the subtlety of a Bludger with a Gryffindor._ Indeed Creevey swallowed and nodded. 

“Give me a moment with the others?” he asked, and retreated back to his colleagues.

Just before Harry emerged from the loo down the hall, Creevey gave Draco an unsubtle smile and nod, and Draco went to meet Harry at the end of the line of people waiting to enter and greet the Minister of Magic and the retiring Caribbean Ambassador.

“We’ll have one posed photo taken of us as we enter. Then they will all leave us alone for the rest of the night.”

Harry turned an amazed smile to Draco. “How did you manage that?”

“Just think of it as my job, dear.” And Draco gave Harry a modest but happy smile.

Harry was so pleased by the news that he shook Creevey’s hand, called him by name and asked after his younger brother, Dennis. Then Harry put his hand in Draco’s, pressed himself close to Draco’s side, and beamed at the camera. Draco knew that it would be a perfectly marvelous photo, and it would almost certainly be on the front page. First tomorrow’s _Prophet_ , hopefully over an article reporting the dressing room shag, and then it would appear in every other wizarding publication. That photo would be showing up for nearly a month. It was practically guaranteed.

They walked down the receiving line shaking hands and murmuring greetings. Then Draco, who’d gone first, found himself shaking the hand of Minister Purdy, and after that was the end of the line: Ambassador Melamed.

As Draco shook Melamed’s hand and offered his thanks for her fifteen years of superior service in the field, mentioning specifically how he was a big supporter of her work to bring copies of rare Caribbean magic books into the British Library of Magic, he realized that Purdy was trying to buttonhole his boyfriend.

Draco excused himself graciously from his conversation with the Ambassador and turned to hear the Minister blathering to Harry about taking Melamed’s place.

“Ahh, Harry! But you know I’ve nearly given up of course! But you’d make such a wonderful Ambassador that I just can’t help but suggest it again, you know!”

“Minister Purdy…” Harry was trying to be gracious but Purdy held tight with both hands to Harry’s right hand. “I don’t speak any other languages, you know, and I’m an Auror. What would the Caribbean nations think if you sent an officer of the law to do diplomatic work?!” Harry tried to laugh it off and get the Minister to let go, but Purdy seemed to be in his element and he wasn’t letting go of either Harry’s hand or Harry’s attention for as long as he could manage it.

“Why Minister Purdy! What an adorable idea! But Harry has to play to his strengths, don’t you think?”

Purdy looked like he was trying not to frown. “Why Mr. Malfoy! What a pleasure!”

“Oh the pleasure is all mine, I’m sure, Minister.” Draco’s arse gave a slight twinge at that very moment and reminded Draco of exactly what his true pleasure was, but he kept all traces of this from his face. Draco gave Harry a slight, sidelong smile meant to imply that the pleasure certainly was not Harry’s – at least, not during this conversation. Purdy got the implication and Harry did not; Draco could see it on both faces.

“Harry really belongs in the Auror corps, don’t you agree, Mr. Minister? He’s such a talented Legilimens! So many prominent arrests! Why, just think how the public would feel if he left the country!” Draco laughed lightly, warmly, but he saw that Purdy was finally getting it. No one wanted to be the wizard who sent Potter away from Britain. 

Purdy swallowed. It was subtle, but tight. He gave a large, fake smile. “Of course, he belongs right where he is! You must stay in the Auror corps, Mr. Potter. As long as you like! Your friend is quite right.”

“Yes, Mr. Minister, my _boyfriend_ is usually right. Especially when it comes to me.” 

The emphasis on his new status was subtle but definitively present. Draco gave a little whoop inside his brain. The two men turned from Purdy, Harry shook Melamed’s hand and gave her a brief phrase of sincere thanks, and they walked away from the receiving line arm in arm. 

They strolled toward a corner that was practically empty of other attendees and Harry whispered into Draco’s ear. “How the fuck did you **do** that, Draco? I’ve been trying to get Pretty-face Purdy to quit offering me off-the-wall jobs for three years!”

“Well darling, you tried to appeal to Purdy’s logical side. I saw that he didn’t have one, and appealed to his sense of self-preservation.”

“My word, pet, you really are a Slytherin, aren’t you?”

“Of course, my dear, and that is why you brought me tonight.”

Harry leaned over and kissed Draco’s cheek. “It isn’t the **only** reason, baby.”

“Glad to hear it,” Draco replied. And he smiled.

They sat down at their table, waiting to eat dinner and listen to speeches praising the Ambassador. Harry’s boss sat across the table from them with his wife. Recalling things Harry had said about his boss, Draco went to nip this unpleasant conversation in the bud before it even began. 

“Auror Sycamore! Harry has told me so much about you, Sir! Why, after you led that spectacular quadruple arrest of the neo-Death Eaters in Ipswich last month, Harry could talk about nothing else for days. He’s learned so much from you, you know. It is easy to tell how glad he is to have you as his superior at work.” And Draco gave Sycamore his best sycophantic smile.

Sycamore looked so flabbergasted that Draco had to put actual effort into not laughing at him. The man’s wife, on the other hand, wore a mixture of pride and gratitude all over her motherly face. Sycamore would be hearing about this at home for months, every time he tried to prattle on about Harry this and Harry that. Draco could picture it. “Garfield Sycamore, calm down already! He works for you and **he** knows you’re his boss, why don’t you **act** like it yourself?!”

Too late, Draco remembered that Harry could see his pictured thoughts, and he squeezed Harry’s hand tightly under the table in warning. Now would be a perfectly appalling time to laugh. Thankfully, Harry took the squeeze and then squeezed back, a bit more gently. Harry was in control and they were doing quite well indeed.

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After the speeches ended, Draco went to the bar to fetch himself a fine Scotch, and a Gin and Tonic for Harry. When he returned with them, he found that the poor Gryffindor was failing to fend off a solicitation so bizarre that even Draco was befuddled by it for a moment.

“Mr. Potter,” the fool was simpering. “I am sure that a brave and good-hearted man such as yourself can see the need for this charity! The Death Eater Pet Rehabilitation programme is a crucial addition to the rehabilitation of those Death Eaters still incarcerated in Azkaban! A cuddly puppy or friendly crup is all some of these wizards and witches need to help them become healthy, productive members of wizarding society again!”

Draco shook off his stupor and addressed the man firmly, and with a large smile plastered on his face.

“Mr. Potter would be happy to review the details of your charity. It is registered, is it not?”

The little man gave a nervous shake of his head.

“No? Well surely you can see that Mr. Potter is a highly respected Auror and he cannot be seen supporting an unregistered charity! Once you complete the necessary paperwork you may, of course, owl Mr. Potter with all the details about your programme, proof that you spend the money on what you say, and all that. But I’m sure you see that you’ll only hurt your own cause if you push for a premature commitment from Mr. Potter!”

“Oh, certainly, yes, of course!” the little man stumbled out, and then he melted away into the milling crowd.

“Sweet Moses, Harry, do you get stuff like that every time you go out in public?”

Harry nodded wearily and Draco looked off into space for a moment before continuing. “That may have been the most… the very strangest thing that has happened to me in, surely for at least six months!” They looked at each other and laughed, none too quietly. 

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Before they could make their apologies and escape at a respectable hour, Draco had to get rid of a representative from Shooting Star Brooms who had been seeking an endorsement from Harry for nearly eight years. A pat on the back and words about the purity of the sport and restrictions on Aurors got rid of her – at least for the rest of the night. Harry later quietly pointed out that his job didn’t actually restrict him from endorsing a Broom, and Draco gave him an innocent smile and pointed out that he hadn’t been dating Harry very long yet and could not be expected to get every single thing accurate. 

Then there was the weeping grandmother who wanted to thank Harry for saving them from Voldemort. Draco was able to turn her away with a few gentle but nonetheless pointed words about the best way to thank a private, modest hero like Harry.

There was a slimy politician who wanted Harry’s public handshake and a slimier behind-the-scenes sort who wanted Harry to run for office himself. There was a coworker who approached Harry purely in order to impress his date, and a coworker who tried to manipulate Harry into taking sides in some foolish inter-office squabble. Draco got rid of them all.

Finally, they were able to head for the coat room to fetch their outer cloaks and leave the Ministry altogether. They headed down the hall, both tired, Harry expressing gratitude, when they were surprised by a classmate from Hogwarts slipping out from behind a large potted tree. 

“Theo!” Draco called out in surprise. He noted Harry reaching, very subtly, for his wand. “Theo Nott! What a pleasant surprise! What brings you here this evening!”

Harry simply waited silently, assuming, like Draco, that Nott wished to speak with the other former Slytherin. But Nott turned to Harry and he was suddenly so pathetic, so wretched, that Draco could almost smell it. 

“Harry!” he whined. “You have to help me! My brother, he’s in Azkaban, and I know they would listen to you! If you put in a good word for him, if you said he wasn’t really, he didn’t mean it, you know! He’s been there since before you killed the Dark Lord! He’s suffering and, you have to help us, Harry, please!”

Draco stepped quickly between Harry and Nott, his hands balled into fists, his temper struggling to be let free, his breathing faster and his color rising. “How. Dare. You. How dare you prevail upon this man’s gentle and giving nature in order to attempt to free scum from Azkaban!”

Harry gave a tiny gasp, almost nothing more than a sharp little intake of breath, but Nott shrank back and bumped into the wall at his back.

Draco’s fury filled him, expanded him. He towered over Nott, who looked like he wished he could disappear. “I was a Death Eater myself, I served my time in Azkaban, and I saw what your older brother did for the beast that was Voldemort. I saw your brother murder, I saw him rape, I saw him bow and scrape for the scraps Voldemort condescended to leave for his most faithful. He is in Azkaban because he **belongs** there!”

Nott opened his mouth to speak and stopped – cowed – when he saw the righteous anger in Draco’s eyes. He gave a pained little bow and slunk away silently.

Draco shook with barely restrained anger, watching Nott walk away down the hall.

Harry put a gentle hand on Draco’s shoulder and let it sit there. He waited for Draco to turn to him and when he did, Harry ran his hands down Draco’s arms in a gesture that was all at once smooth and solid and warm. Draco shuddered and attempted to yank his control back from wherever it had fallen.

But Harry looked Draco deep in the eyes and stroked his cheek once, then again. It was gentle, and clearly asked the silent question, “ _Are you all right, my dear one?_ ” Draco relaxed and stepped a bit closer to his lover, and Harry wrapped his arms around Draco and Apparated them back to Harry’s front hall at Twenty-seven Churchill Circle without another word, leaving their lovely new outer cloaks in the coat check room.

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They made their way upstairs quietly, and readied themselves for bed with almost no conversation. Draco was still seething, though he was working hard to get his emotions under control, and every few minutes found him closer to his goal. For his part, Harry seemed quite willing to wait as long as it took.

Eventually they were both ready for bed and they slipped into it, Draco realizing that Harry had bought silk sheets that seemed a match for the ones on his Ogygia bed. He smiled at Harry’s thoughtfulness and lascivious nature and turned to allow Harry to cuddle him close.

When Draco finally felt completely relaxed in his arms, Harry began to speak.

“I owe you a lot for tonight, my dear, even from before Nott showed up. You were a wonder. You did everything your father claimed you could and more. And, other than Nott, you didn’t turn anyone away upset or angry or thinking any less of me. I am deeply impressed.” He stroked Draco’s bare back lovingly.

“I want to shag you through the mattress, but not now. We’ll make love in the morning. All right?”

Draco nodded and they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

In the morning Draco woke after Harry. He had a quick shower and went downstairs in the same dressing gown Harry always had him borrow. He found Harry at the table sitting in front of a steaming cup of untouched coffee.

Harry heard Draco enter the room and he looked up from the paper, stricken. 

_Sweet Moses on the Standing Stones!_ Draco thought to himself with fear. _He’s read about the dressing room shag and he’s angry at me!_

Harry patted the seat next to him and bid Draco sit. “We need to talk.”

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	8. Getting a Shock, Getting Advice

This fic is now NC-17 and should remain firmly in that camp. No kids, please.

Warnings: Dominance/submission games, Lucius!bashing, manipulative!Draco, future mpreg implied.

Pairing: Harry/Draco

Genres: Romance, Fluff, Smut

Disclaimer: They aren't mine, they belong to the clever Scottish lady. I just bend them and love them. Please don't smack me for playing. It isn't like I am going to earn any money from this!

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Chapter Eight

When Harry woke that Saturday morning, Draco seemed so peaceful and comfortable that Harry couldn’t bear to wake him, even for the sort of delicious, sleepy, arse-reaming fuck Harry was eager to give him. _Draco was invaluable at the Ministry last night. He deserves to sleep in._ So, Harry snuck out of bed and took a short shower, then headed downstairs to relax with the paper and coffee. 

Winky had pulled the Sports section for him, as she always did, and as the Falcons had utterly destroyed the Cannons while he and Draco had been busy at the Ministry the night before, it was quite a while before he spared a glance for anything other than Quidditch. His thoughts flitted randomly, from taking Draco to a game for his birthday, to other ways to celebrate Draco’s birthday, all the way out to leaving the Auror corps and buying his own team. He finished his first cup of coffee and refilled it in the kitchen before he went looking for more news.

But Harry had been sitting at the table, staring – shocked – at the front page of the _Prophet_ for some time now. He had no idea how much time had passed, though he was absently aware that his second coffee was still very hot and he did not remember bothering with a Heating Charm or seeing Winky for a while.

He and Draco really, really needed to talk about this, but… _Oh, thank Merlin. Here’s Draco now._

He spoke to Draco and motioned that he wanted him to come sit. He was surprised to see Draco abruptly go sheet white, as though he was expecting or fearing Harry would give him horrific, heart-shattering news. Suddenly suspicious, Harry casually folded the paper against the crease, so that the article that concerned him was no longer at all visible. He tried to be a bit sly, so Draco wouldn’t see that he was hiding something. He knew he wasn’t good at subtlety, especially around a master like Malfoy, but he could see Draco was shaken and he wanted to get to the bottom of it. Perhaps Draco was too distressed to notice Harry’s attempt to hide the front page.

Putting the oddly folded paper on the chair to his left, Harry turned to Draco on his right, still rather pale but trying to feign normalcy.

“What’s the matter, Draco? You look like a Peruvian Vipertooth just landed behind me.”

“It’s the look you had on your face. You looked stricken. Just... absolutely stricken.” Draco wasn’t usually at a loss for words, but he was so frightened of what Harry might be thinking right now. He tried to wrest his control back from wherever it had vanished, and he began to count backwards silently from one hundred in Mandarin, his preferred control exercise for emergencies. 

Draco reminded himself that he did not know for certain what Harry had read, but despite the dutiful internal recitation of numbers in old, royal Chinese, his brain echoed with the conversation he’d had with Beth at her clothing counter. At least he was able to avoid remembering the conversation with any mental pictures. 

Draco managed to continue speaking. “What **is** the matter? Has there been a neo-Death Eater attack? Are you needed at work?” _There, that was better. Make it look like I’m afraid **for** Harry, not **of** Harry._

But from the way Harry narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, leaned back in his chair a tiny bit, and – most painful – did not give him a reassuring smile, Draco knew something had gone badly awry. He was still up to his neck in it, and he didn’t even know for certain why.

“No, Draco.” 

Draco swallowed involuntarily at the complete lack of any of the silly love names that normally fell from Harry’s lips at every possible opportunity.

Harry was still speaking. “It’s nothing like that. I won’t be needed at work… today.”

Draco had a sudden flash of insight that Harry was holding something back, and – emboldened – he put his hand on Harry’s wrist and gave a very honest sigh of relief. “That is a great comfort, Harry. I know what you do is dangerous, but the reality of that was purely intellectual – until just now.”

Auror senses on high alert, Harry took a risk. “Cut the crap, Draco. What really scared you just now? You thought I’d read something in the paper, and I want to know exactly what it is you were afraid I’d seen.”

In a corner, Draco searched for an honest answer that wouldn’t deep-six him completely. “I assumed that we would make the front page, Harry, and I was worried that… I know how privately you try to live…. I feared I’d said something that ended up in the paper and made you look bad, or that someone else said something insulting about you, or that the photo of me was doing something inappropriate to the photo of you….” Draco realized he was starting to babble. He closed his mouth. _Well, I don’t taste feet. Yet._ he thought grimly as he awaited Harry’s response.

But Harry wasn’t fooled. “Nice try. Give me the truth this time. The real, whole truth, not a shadow of it that you hope will pass.”

Draco completely lost the Mandarin countdown and tried not to visibly shake. _Bloody, buggering, fucking fuck! Why the mother fucking hell on a stick did I have to fall in love with an **Auror**?_ But he had to say something. Now. And this time, it really had to be that kernel of truth he’d hoped to hide. 

He took a deep breath and put both hands on Harry’s table. He clasped them, to prevent shaking, and to hide their pallor and lack of heat. Then he began to speak.

“Remember how, after we shagged in the dressing room and bought your new clothes, I spoke to Beth about keeping us out of the papers?”

Harry simply gave Draco a rather curt nod. He was looking at Draco’s eyes, but – uncharacteristically – Draco was staring at his own hands.

Draco took another breath and started again. “Do you remember the exact words I used?”

Draco looked up long enough to see Harry shake his head.

“I asked Beth to make sure that we didn’t get in the paper the next day. Then I gave her a look, and she said she understood. I was asking her to make sure that she and her clerks only kept it out until today. I…” he was fighting to keep his voice steady and he was mostly succeeding. “I _wanted_ it to be there today, along with the photo and article about us at the reception that I knew would be on the front page.”

Harry’s voice held no warmth. “Why would you want that in today’s paper?”

“Sometimes seeing things written down can make them feel more real. I believed that, if the world saw a picture of us happy, heard about how we were still going out two weeks after that first date that ended up in the paper, and knew that we were sexually involved, it would push you to ask me to marry you.”

“Why would that make me want to marry you?”

“I hoped that people would say things to you, make jokes about making an honest man out of me, comments about how good we look together, how happy we look together. I hoped you would hear jealous words from people who wish they could have you, or even those who wish they could have me. I hoped that seeing all that in black and white and moving pictures would give you a reason to put everything together in your mind and decide that marrying me – soon – made sense.”

Draco decided that was all he needed to say. All he should say. All he could say before he broke down, declared his undying love, and begged for forgiveness. He sat quietly, hands still clasped, eyes still on the table, and worked hard to swallow his fear that Harry’s anger would be fierce and enduring.

“I see.” Harry didn’t sound happy at all. “Well, let me put your mind at rest. What I read in the paper that had me so ‘stricken’, as you put it, wasn’t about you, or us, at all. It was about Theodore Nott. Last night, with a little alcohol in his system and with no apparent plan, Nott tried to storm Azkaban single-handedly and free his older brother. Theodore was killed in the attempt.” Harry ran both hands through his messy hair and stood up, beginning to pace.

“In the article, his flatmate is quoted as saying Nott had been suffering from insomnia and, as far as Warrington knew, Nott hadn’t slept in at least three days.”

Harry was on the other side of the table now. He stopped there and put his hands down flat on the surface, leaning over a bit and looking at Draco, who raised his head and met Harry’s eyes.

“I was afraid, after what happened between the three of us last night, that you would feel horrible, responsible, guilty. I was feeling very guilty myself. Should we have handled that differently? Could we have done something to save Theodore Nott’s life? Should I have reported that conversation to a superior? Was I wrong to put your needs above anyone else’s at that moment? I was worried about you, and wondered how I could tell you without making you feel bad.

“And then I find out what’s on your mind, the manipulation games you’re playing with my life, my heart, my future!”

Harry stood and raked his hands through his tangled hair again. He looked angry, sad, and uncertain. 

Draco tried to think of something to do or say, something that would take that look from Harry’s face, but – though his mind seemed to fill with excuses, explanations, and pleading – he could think of nothing he wished to say aloud. Harry was in charge; all Draco could do was wait.

“I think I need you to leave now, Draco. Have fun deciding what to tell your father.”

Draco nodded silently and slipped upstairs, where he dressed, packed his few belongings in the bag he’d brought the night before, Shrank them, and Apparated into his apartment at home directly from Harry’s bedroom.

Draco slowly barricaded himself into his bedroom with his strongest wards, took all his clothes off again, and crawled into bed. He did not cry himself to sleep, but he rather wanted to.

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Harry paced angrily around the house. Winky stayed out of his way, and he felt as alone and isolated as he’d ever been since the cupboard under the stairs. He wished he could talk to someone about this crazy business. But who? He sat at the table again, only to jump up at the feeling of something crinkly under him. It was the paper he’d discarded earlier. He pulled it off the chair and sat again, spreading the paper out to look more carefully at the article about himself and Draco that had, as predicted, made the front page. It was under the fold, however, because of the news about Nott trying to storm Azkaban.

His eyes fell on the article about Nott again, and he read more of it this time, seeing that a reporter had noticed the conversation he and Draco had had with Nott. He wondered if the newspaper would speculate that Draco was somehow at fault, or bring up – as Draco himself had to Nott – Draco’s brief stint in Azkaban. Indeed, the paper did both things, calling Draco a “convicted Death Eater” and trying to cast doubts on his true designs on Harry, as well as upon both Harry’s sanity and his ability to think with his brain instead of his dick.

Then, in an about-face surely only the _Daily Prophet_ was capable of, the article beneath it painted a sunny, rosy picture of the happy couple. It did indeed mention what had happened at Beth’s shop, but in this article, the implications about their relationship were vastly different. They were young and in love and wasn’t it wonderful that Harry had finally found someone not only intelligent and stylish but also so handsome that Harry obviously could not keep his hands off him. 

As Harry watched the picture Colin had taken, he saw himself turn and take Draco in his arms and hold him close. Still embracing, the two men in the photo turned to look at Harry and they both waved. They were smiling, relaxed, and even Harry could see that they both were in love.

But that was just a photograph. Just inches above it, the same newspaper was accusing him of being duped by a pretty face.

What was real? What was the truth?

Suddenly Harry knew just who to talk to. He strode to the fireplace and called out, “Number thirty-two Vortigern Alley!” Soon Blaise’s smiling face was on the other end.

“Why if it isn’t my most famous friend! Caught you and your sweetie all over the front page this morning, old man. Should my husband and I be dragging out the tuxedo robes? Are you calling to issue us an invitation?” Blaise’s eyes were twinkling with friendly mirth, and Harry found his anger softening. 

“Not exactly, Blaise. I was hoping to invite Seamus out for a pint. Oh, and you too, of course.”

Blaise caught Harry’s expression and none-too-subtle slip and decided to make this easier on the man. “Ahh, that does sound fun, but I have a few oceans of paperwork to go through for the company. I expect my lazy-arse of a husband would love to get out of here and meet you somewhere, however. Shall I have him meet you at The Feathered Quill at, say, noon?”

Harry was of half a mind to beg Blaise to forget The Feathered Quill and just shove Seamus through the fireplace this very moment, but he gave Blaise a smile and a nod instead. “That would be just great, Blaise. Thank you. Sorry you won’t be able to make it yourself!”

“Another time, Harry. The four of us should meet up for drinks some evening. Or we’ll have you and Draco over for dinner some time!”

“Draco would love that, Blaise. Thanks for the idea. Tell Seamus I’ll meet him at a table in the back, all right?”

They said their goodbyes and Harry straightened up and leaned forward on his mantel. Now that he wasn’t putting on a happy face for Blaise, his anger and confusion flared back to life. _Bloody, buggering, fucking fuck! Fucking paper! Fucking Nott! Why the mother fucking hell on a stick do I have to find myself shagging a desperate, Slytherin, **Death Eater**?! I need to go exercise. Crunches. Lots and lots of crunches. And maybe then I’ll go running._

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Eleven minutes past noon, hair still wet from another shower, Harry rushed into The Feathered Quill. He stopped to buy a pint from the barman, then headed for the back. He soon saw Seamus, already halfway through a pint of Guinness. 

He smiled for the first time in hours. “You didn’t waste any time!”

“We’re pretty far from the factory, but the Guinness here isn’t bad at all.”

Harry sat. “Must be magic,” he kidded the Irishman. He looked around the pub and realized there were pictures on the wall he didn’t recognize, and Seamus’ hair was shaggy, like it hadn’t been cut in quite some time. “Shit, Shay, it’s been… I think it’s been three or four months since we last did this. How the hell did that happen?”

“Well,” Seamus waggled his brows lewdly, “I think perhaps you’ve been a bit… busy? Bought any clothes lately?” He ducked a mock swing from Harry and took a long pull from his pint.

“Seriously though, Seamus, I’m glad you brought that up. It’s why I wanted to talk to you. I assume you read today’s two big _Prophet_ articles about Draco and me?”

Seamus looked at Harry intently. “Read the one from two weeks ago as well.”

Harry nodded. Then he launched into his concerns without first planning what to say. “You married a Slytherin, that’s why I called you. I got really angry and I threw him out this morning. Draco planned for that shag to get in the papers.” Harry hoped Seamus got the jist of the matter. Perhaps he did; he looked a little alarmed.

“You mean, knowing how private you are, he seduced you in public and told the paper about it?!”

Harry was taken aback. “Well, no, I mean, I seduced him, I think….” Harry stared off into space for a moment and worked through his memories of those delightful moments in the dressing room. He’d asked about the eyebrow thing, started tickling Draco, kissed him, untucked the other man’s shirt… he’d seduced Draco. No doubt about it. And then something struck him. He’d warded the door, but he hadn’t put up a Silencing Charm. Draco, however, had. It had been weak, but Draco had tried to protect his, no, _their_ privacy. Harry had been so intent on getting into Draco’s arse that he’d completely forgotten to care that they were in a clothing store.

“Harry?”

“I’ve just, I was remembering… he didn’t seduce me at all. And I forgot the Silencing Charm but he remembered it. And I knew his Charm was weak but I didn’t cast a stronger one. I just ignored the whole issue. On the other hand, there is the whole thing about the _Prophet_.”

“He told them?”

“Well, no, he asked the shopkeeper to keep it out of Wednesday’s paper. Then he admitted to me this morning that he was hinting that it should go in today’s paper instead.”

“I know that shop. Blaise likes it. Was Beth alone, or was a clerk there too? Any other customers?”

“I think there were two clerks. I didn’t see any customers, but a herd of Erumpents could have stormed the place and I’d have missed it if I was touching Draco.” Harry blushed and Seamus gave him a broad smile.

“Harry, you’re telling me that a minimum of three other people knew you shagged Draco in that dressing room?”

Harry could only nod in surprise. When had he become so devil-may-care about his own privacy?

Seamus chided Harry gently. “Then there was no way on earth to keep that out of the public eye. You know that saying about how three can only keep a secret if–”

“One of them is dead? Yeah, I know that saying,” Harry interrupted.

“Well it’s pretty much true, you know. I mean, Beth probably would have kept it out of the papers forever if she were working alone that day. She wouldn’t want to lose your business or Draco’s. But she’s the owner. It was probably hard for her to keep both of those clerks from rushing off to the _Prophet_ the second you and Draco left the store. She might have even had to bribe them. So Draco managed to keep the shag out of the papers till it could make the two of you look pretty good, and till it wasn’t the whole article all by itself. And this way there was only one article with it, not one right after it happened and one in today’s paper.”

“I… I hadn’t thought of any of that.”

“Harry old friend, I don’t want to insult you, I mean, I can’t tell you how much I’ve learned about this stuff from Blaise. But still, you know well that you have always been a bit of a dunce with the press. Even after all this time. You just…” Seamus took a long drink and finished his Guinness. “You still expect people to be honest, helpful and kind, Harry. Other than suspects you’re pursuing, that is. It’s one of your most charming qualities, but it doesn’t really help you lead the life you want, does it?”

Harry bypassed a million possibilities of how to respond and simply said, “I knew you were the man to talk this over with, Seamus.”

Seamus looked contemplative for a moment. “Harry, could Draco be trying to get a little bit of control over this relationship you two have? Could he be feeling insecure about you, how you feel about him, and whether or not this is real?”

Harry was a bit stunned. _Surely Draco knows exactly how I feel. Doesn’t he? Haven’t I told him? Perhaps I haven’t. How **do** I feel?_

Seamus politely ignored the look of bewilderment on his friend’s face and continued. “You know, I think Draco could be good for you in a lot of ways you haven’t considered. I mean, I assume you finally asked him out because you couldn’t stand the tension anymore; you’ve been staring at him like he’s a piece of meat for a few years now. But a man like him could be really good for you out of the sack, too. He’s really smart; I’m sure you know that. And he’s incredibly politically savvy. He’s got all these subtle connections everywhere. People are really down on the Malfoys right now but you shouldn’t let that scare you away. Well, obviously it hasn’t, but don’t let this thing with the papers bust you two up, Harry. I could be biased about Gryffindors with Slytherins, but I gotta tell you, Harry, with Blaise and me it’s the perfect pairing. We fit like puzzle pieces, we complement. Blaise and I have thought for ages that you and Draco would really complement each other, too.”

Harry considered telling Seamus why he had asked Draco out, but figured Seamus’ short version was close enough to the truth. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“We knew you had to figure it out for yourself. I tell you, Harry, if I didn’t have Blaise, I’d have taken twice as long to figure out that you were hard for Draco, and then I’d have blundered in with both feet and told you the next time I’d seen you. And really, if I’d suddenly up and told you to ask him out, what, a year or two ago, how do you think you would have reacted?”

Harry laughed softly as he recalled how he had actually reacted to Lucius Malfoy’s letter only earlier that very month. “You’ve made your point, Shay. Badly. I’d have reacted badly indeed.”

Harry decided it was time for a slight change of subject. “It sounds like you think Blaise is the best thing that ever happened to you.” 

“Fucking right, Harry. Of course, at first it was just about those smouldering dark looks; you know I’ve always had a thing for tall, dark and handsome.”

Harry simply nodded and finished his own Guinness.

“After Dean and I broke up, right after the war ended, I was at loose ends – romantically, any way – for a few years. It’s hard enough finding a gay wizard. Add hot and black, and you’re looking at a small pool of men indeed!” Seamus laughed wryly. “When I met Blaise at a gay club I was intrigued immediately, because even if he was a Slytherin, he was drop-dead gorgeous and exactly my type. We toyed with each other for months, but eventually I realized I was falling in love with him. So, Gryffindor that I am, I told him so.” Now Seamus laughed with a warmth Harry could feel. “He was shocked! He later admitted to me that he’d been in love with me for a whole week already, but there was no way he’d have said so right out like that. He says he’s learned a lot from me, too. Like I said before, we really complement each other.”

“I remember your wedding. It was beautiful.”

“You brought Ginny. How is she these days? You two still friends at all?”

“Oh yeah. Hell, I’ve already gone to her for advice about Draco!”

Seamus laughed raucously and slapped the table. “That sounds like a story worth hearing. Let me get the next round and you can get the third, all right?”

The two old friends talked through two more rounds, laughing and telling stories. Harry didn’t leave in the same mood in which he’d arrived, and he didn’t let Seamus leave until the two had agreed on their next get-together.

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When Harry got home from the pub, it was after two. He’d decided to walk home in the sunshine and had thought and thought over all the things Seamus had helped him see. It was clear to him now. He had been in the wrong and he needed to apologize. How should he go about it? Flowers? Candy? On his knees? Should he make a big production of it or just go do it as soon as possible? 

He made a decision and gave Winky some instructions. Then, still smelling slightly of Guinness and the pub, and wearing very casual clothes, he Apparated to the front door of the Manor.

A house-elf let him in and suggested he wait in the parlour, but Harry didn’t want to do that. “No, I really think you should take me directly to Master Draco. Now.”

The house-elf looked at him a bit nervously, but led him to a door bristling with fading wards. Harry went to knock, but then thought better of it. The wards might be fading but the sound would still never carry. He would have to get Draco’s attention another way. 

He pulled out his wand and concentrated for a moment. He found the irony fitting, and so used a snippet of memory from the very dressing room shag that had caused so much vexation. The silver stag poured from his wand and stared, waiting.

“Please tell him that I was an arse, I’m sorry I hurt and scared him, and I am on the other side of this door wanting to ask his forgiveness.”

The stag nodded once and, using its horns, unraveled the spells on the door enough to get through.

Harry waited nervously, but it wasn’t long before the door began to open. He struggled not to shove it open faster with physical force. His need to touch his lover was suddenly overwhelming and almost painful.

And then he was there, in a dressing gown, looking tousled and sad and hopeful. The house-elf vanished without a word and Harry bowed his head. “I’ve been such a Gryffindor. Forgive me?”

Draco reached out one hand and tipped up Harry’s chin. They looked one another in the eye, and Draco stared into the bright green eyes of the man he loved. He let go of Harry’s chin and stroked, with one soft fingertip, a line from the top of Harry’s cheekbone, down his cheek, and off the edge of his face right where Harry’s chin met his jaw. As Harry swallowed deeply, Draco reached up and stroked his lover’s black hair once.

Then he put his hand on the back of Harry’s neck and pulled gently. Harry came to him immediately; it wasn’t submission, although it was still a request for forgiveness. It was primarily from desire to be near Draco. Draco took a step closer to Harry and put his lips near Harry’s but did not kiss him. Harry could feel his lover’s breath as Draco said the words, “I forgive you. I understand.”

Harry suspected Draco didn’t really understand, but the forgiveness felt genuine and that was good enough for now. He stepped into Draco’s room and reset the wards. Added to them. Strengthened them. He shut the door with his foot as he turned from the wards to take Draco in his arms.

“I do believe that last night I thanked you for helping me with Nott and then promised to shag you this morning, but when I woke I wanted to let you sleep. So I owe you some attention.”

Draco knew they really needed to talk, but it could wait. “Yes, I agree.”

Harry began to untie the blond’s dressing gown. “I can’t believe it’s been less than twenty-four hours. It feels like I haven’t touched you in a month. I don’t like fighting with you.”

The dressing gown pooled at Draco’s feet, and he stood naked in all his glorious fair splendour in front of Harry. Harry left his own clothes on and stared avidly at his lover. “So beautiful…” he whispered, and sank slowly to his knees in front of Draco’s stiffening cock. He put one hand on Draco’s hip and the other on Draco’s cock. It jerked as it began to fill even more rapidly at Harry’s caress.

Draco was silent, but smiling.

Harry licked the head of Draco’s cock and looked up at his lover’s handsome face. Stroking Draco firmly, he tipped his head in question. “Do you want to stand?”

Draco considered this for a moment and decided that, while turning the tables with dominance and submission was an eventual goal, he didn’t want it to happen because Harry felt guilty.

“I think I’d rather relax on the bed,” he replied, and offered Harry his hand. Harry stood and began to walk toward Draco’s enormous bed, but a hand on his arm stopped him. “May I undress you?” Draco asked.

Harry’s eyes were soft, his face sad, chagrinned, and hopeful all at once. “This is supposed to be all about you, pet.”

Draco gave him a lascivious smile. “It will be, don’t fret.”

He stepped in front of Harry and pressed himself into Harry’s body. Harry’s track bottoms felt soft on his hard cock, and Harry’s t-shirt felt soft on his chest. He slipped his hands under the hem of the shirt and stroked Harry’s back. Then he raked his nails down Harry’s skin. Harry shivered under Draco’s touch.

Draco decided soft cotton was all very well and good, but now was the time for skin. He tore Harry’s t-shirt off and then climbed onto the bed. “Please take all that off and then come here.”

Harry hurried to comply and once he was nude, he crawled onto the bed and rested on his stomach between Draco’s legs.

“I really want to suck your cock.”

Draco waved graciously at his cock, still standing at attention. “Be my guest!”

Harry didn’t hesitate. He took the head of Draco’s cock in his mouth and began to suck. He added a finger to his mouth and coated it generously with spit, then, easing Draco’s thighs apart, he added arse-play to the blow job. 

Draco tried to let go of his inhibitions, because _fuck_ that felt good, but found himself tense. Then he remembered his reaction to the blindfold. Perhaps they could do that again. Now.

“Harry?”

Harry could only hum a response, which Draco didn’t mind at all.

“I want you to blindfold me and take care of me again. I want to let go. I need a little help with completely letting go in my father’s house.”

Harry took his mouth from Draco’s cock long enough to answer, “That’s easy enough to fix, baby.” And, with one finger still in Draco’s arse and his mouth back on his lover’s cock, Harry held up his other hand and both of their wands flew into it. Then Draco was shocked to feel the familiar squeeze of Apparition and the two men were on Harry’s bed in his house on Churchill Circle. Draco had never before heard of someone doing a Side-Along Apparition _during sex_ , and he was tempted to check that his most important bits were still attached – but then Harry caressed him lovingly with a finger and his tongue simultaneously and the point was moot. 

Harry gave Draco’s cock a little kiss goodbye and got off the bed to fetch some toys and have a bit of a stretch.

“So… blindfold, lube, maybe a dildo…”

Draco reached for his cock and stroked it languidly while Harry wandered over to the toy chest, stretching and muttering to himself. He was glad Harry had apologized, and the make-up sex looked like it would be brilliant indeed, but eventually they had to talk about that morning’s fight, and he wasn’t particularly looking forward to it. _So I might as well make the best of the shag while it lasts!_ he decided, and smiled eagerly at Harry, returning with things in his hands.

Harry gently fastened the blindfold over Draco’s eyes, and Draco found some of his tension slipping away. He was Harry’s responsibility now, and he knew Harry would take very good care of him. Everything else could wait. Right now, he was Harry’s precious gift – nothing more, nothing less – and he would relax into Harry’s caress and let Harry turn him into the cosseted treasure he longed to be.

As Harry touched his skin, Draco felt his fears slip away, replaced by a dreamy feeling that he was exactly where he belonged.

As Harry bit gently at his neck, Draco sighed and stretched to give Harry better access.

As Harry slipped a lubricated dildo into his arse, Draco lifted his knees and tossed his head from side to side, feeling the fullness and the rings stimulating his prostate and making him long to come.

As Harry turned him gently from the headboard and touched Draco’s lips with Harry’s cock, Draco opened his mouth and eagerly sucked Harry’s cock as far into his throat as he could, reaching up to Harry’s arse to pull him in deeper and closer and harder and faster and more.

And when Harry’s lips stretched again over the head of Draco’s cock, completing the circle of sucking and fucking and beautiful, loving, sexual touch, Draco couldn’t hold back another moment and he came into Harry’s mouth while Harry shot his own coveted seed into Draco’s throat.

Harry turned and curled around Draco. Then he fell asleep in Harry’s arms, with a dildo in his arse and a blindfold on his face. 

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Draco woke with a full bladder and no desire whatsoever to leave Harry’s bed or embrace. Still, it was that, or else ruin the new silk sheets Harry had clearly bought just for him. 

When he came back to the bed Harry was awake, sitting up against the headboard and wearing his glasses. Draco positioned himself between Harry’s legs and leaned back against his lover’s chest.

Harry’s chest rumbled a bit as he spoke. “We have to talk about this morning, don’t we?” It was so close to a statement that it was barely a question. 

“Yes, Harry, we really do.” Draco wove the fingers of his left hand through Harry’s fingers and pulled Harry’s hand onto his chest.

Harry sighed and seemed unwilling, or perhaps unable, to say anything else. Draco knew he needed to start this, and he couldn’t be too Slytherin about it. It was time to bite the bullet.

“Harry, do you trust me? _Can_ you trust me?”

“Oh Draco, I’m so sorry. I really hurt you. I hate that I hurt you.”

They were still sitting back to chest and couldn’t look one another in the eye. “It feels good to hear that, but, Harry. I need to know. Do you trust me?”

“I want to, pet. I know for certain that I want to. Do you know how I made such a fast turnaround from angry to contrite? It was Seamus. I met up with him and we had a few pints and he explained Slytherin men.” Harry chuckled warmly at the memory of his own ignorance and wrapped his right arm around Draco’s naked chest. 

“He said quite a lot of things I never would have thought of, and he helped me remember some things I had forgotten. Like that **I** forgot to Silence the room – but you remembered – and that since there were at least three people in the shop with us I’m lucky that the incident only got in the papers the way it did and not several times and in a much more lurid fashion.”

Harry nuzzled Draco’s neck for a moment, and Draco rested quietly in Harry’s arms, enjoying the closeness and listening carefully to every word Harry said.

“Seamus believes that Gryffindors and Slytherins complement each other splendidly, and he told me all about why he and Blaise fit together so well. And he and Blaise were both eager to have us over for dinner sometime soon. I think that I would like that very much, what about you?” 

Draco leaned back and tried to catch Harry’s eye. When he managed, he simply replied, “Sounds lovely.”

Then Harry took a deep breath and Draco readjusted his neck to a more comfortable position, breaking their eye contact again. 

“Seamus also wondered if perhaps you needed some reassurance about how I feel about you, and about the status of our relationship. Do you think he might be right?”

“Well…” Draco turned his head and nestled his cheek next to Harry’s heartbeat, his hair under Harry’s chin. “I think it might help me feel a little less… tentative.”

“Let me lay all my cards on the table then, sweetie. I’ve begun to think of you as my boyfriend.”

Draco smiled. 

“I’ve become positively addicted to your body, and thoughts of touching you can derail my workday for hours on end. I love looking at you, talking with you, learning about you, and spending time with you. You impressed the hell out of me last night, and you have absolutely proven your worth as a potential partner for any and all such future occasions. I’ve been toying with the idea of asking you to sleep here every night, or even officially move in for a bit while I seriously consider the marriage thing.”

Draco could hear the “but” coming. He steeled himself for it.

“But I’m not quite ready to go out and buy a ring. I can’t quite dismiss all the bad history yet, despite the explosive sex and the way we get along so fantastically well.”

Harry took a breath and stroked Draco’s arm. Draco realized this was hard for Harry, too. 

“And then there is the matter of your father. Even if I had complete confidence in our ability to keep him at bay and foil his plans to turn me into some sort of mindless political tool – and I don’t have that confidence right now, I should be clear – but even if I did, I don’t know how I feel about him being my father-in-law, being a grandfather to my children. I’m not excited about marrying into your family, Draco, and I’ll have to deal with that before I can.”

Harry gave Draco a little hug and then pulled the duvet up over the both of them a bit more securely before he continued.

“But marriage is still an option in my mind. And it seems that almost everything you do makes it more likely. I see the logic of it. I’ve always wanted marriage and children and security, a true partner and fabulous sex and you have all that waiting for me. In spades.”

Draco thought to lighten the mood a touch. “Especially the fabulous sex.”

“Yes, darling. Especially the fabulous sex.” Harry smiled and kissed Draco on the temple.

“And,” Harry gave an abrupt sigh, “I think that’s about all I can stand to say right now, unless you have a question.”

Draco definitely had a question. _Do you trust me?!_ But he had already asked it three times and not gotten much of an answer. It would have to wait. “I can’t think of anything else right now, lover.”

“Then will you stay for dinner? Will you sleep here tonight?” Harry was so full of innocent hope that he looked like a child. He wanted to have fixed everything. He wanted it to be easy again. But Draco felt that Harry needed a bit of a tweak. What Harry needed was a consequence. An unpleasant one.

“I would love to eat dinner with you, darling, but then I should borrow some clothes and go sleep in my own bed. I have a lot to do tomorrow.”

Harry’s face fell, though he tried to hide it. “Lucius wants you at home?” Draco could see right through Harry’s attempt to look calm and accepting.

“That’s a big part of it, but it isn’t the whole reason. I think I’d just prefer to sleep alone in my own bed tonight.” Draco paused strategically. “Can you understand that, sweetheart?”

“Of course I can, Draco, of course I can.” His childish disappointment shone through the cracks like light through a stained glass window, and Draco basked in it as he rested on his lover’s chest.

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	9. Getting to Know You. With Sushi!

Disclaimer: They aren't mine, they belong to the clever Scottish lady. I just bend them and love them. Please don't smack me for playing. It isn't like I am going to earn any money from this!   

Beta by DrGaellon and 13_Moons

Chapter Nine

Harry did indeed seem to learn a lesson from Draco’s choice to spend Saturday night alone at the Manor. 

They had a lovely dinner that Winky had worked on for hours. Harry had obviously been confident in his ability to get Draco to have dinner with him that night, at least, and before Draco Flooed home, Harry pulled out a small paper calendar and scheduled several dates with Draco. They had been informally planning to spend all of Draco’s birthday together, but that was solidly arranged now. Harry would be at the Manor at 9 on Sunday morning, and they would not return there until Monday afternoon at the earliest. Draco had no idea what Harry planned to do with him for all that time, but if the excited twinkle in Harry’s eye meant what Draco thought it did, a lot of sex would be involved.

In the week before Draco’s birthday, however, Harry wanted to get together frequently. Draco only agreed to two dates, however, wanting to keep Harry on Draco’s personal version of a short leash. So, Draco was to come over for dinner and spend the night on both Tuesday and Friday. He insisted upon spending the day before his birthday with his parents, pretending that it would mean a lot to them. In reality, he longed to spend every moment with Harry, and although his mother probably would enjoy spending that Saturday with him, Draco could hardly muster up the filial loyalty to care. 

On the other hand, a Harry with a whole day to plan Draco’s birthday celebration was a lovely thing to contemplate, not to mention a Harry eager to see him more than he was “available,” so Draco sighed and pretended and manipulated, and Harry agreed and said he understood and looked wistful. 

They also realized that they had both been independently invited to the wedding of Pansy Parkinson and Dean Thomas, which was happening soon. Harry had not yet remembered to respond, so he hastily owled Pansy’s parents with his acceptance, indicating that he and Draco would be coming together and would both have the salmon.

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Harry kissed Draco goodbye very, very thoroughly. But Draco had been expecting this and had surreptitiously cast a Celibacy Charm on himself as they were finishing dinner. He was able to relax happily into Harry’s arms and Harry’s kiss, and know that no inconvenient erection would derail his plans to Floo home, leaving Harry desperate for more of him.

Harry didn’t beg Draco to stay, but Draco could feel the erection in Harry’s trousers and see the restraint on his lover’s face. 

Draco Flooed home to the Manor, checked in briefly with his father, said goodnight to his mother, and retired to his room. It was hours until bedtime, so he immediately set to working on his control exercises. With the way things were going, he predicted that he’d be able to simultaneously levitate every object in his bedroom before the wedding. Including his bed, desk, and solid marble chess table.

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It was only nine in the evening when Harry watched Draco Floo home. He had a great deal to do. First, he firecalled his supervisor at home. Mrs. Sycamore was happy to see him in the fireplace and fetched Garfield. With Sycamore’s permission, Harry took off the whole upcoming week before Draco’s birthday, and the Monday after that. Apparently, the Ministry owed Harry quite a lot of vacation time, and Garfield was only too happy to have Harry take some immediately.

Harry was a bit surprised when Mrs. Sycamore asked after Draco, but he politely told her that Draco had just been with Harry for dinner and was quite well, thank you. She seemed eager to tell Harry what a nice young man his boyfriend was and how lovely it was to see a handsome young couple so happy together. She mentioned having saved a copy of that morning’s newspaper and offered to clip the photo of them for Harry, if he wished. Harry thanked her and said goodbye, then sat at his dining room table for several minutes remembering things Draco had said about newspaper publicity helping Draco win Harry’s hand. He should have known Draco would be right about something like this. Draco seemed to have a habit of being right. Oddly enough, it wasn’t annoying. It was edifying, or funny, or dead useful. Harry sat and pondered this for quite some time.

Then he got up and – hoping Remus was home and awake – stuck his head in the fireplace again.

Remus, it turned out, was very glad to have Harry pop over for a chat and a glass of scotch. Severus was out of the house for the weekend to attend some conference about potions research, and Remus was at loose ends.

So at ten that night, Harry found himself sipping scotch with Remus in what had once been his lounge, until he’d given the house to Remus and Severus as a wedding present.

“So what brings you here on a Saturday night, Harry? From what I saw in the paper, I thought you’d be out with the young Malfoy. I saved my copy of the paper if you’d like to…”

Remus stopped when he saw that Harry had raised a hand to forestall that conversation.

“Remus, things are… the last two weeks….” Harry took a sip of his drink, put the glass down, and ran his hands through his hopelessly messy hair. Then he stood and began to walk around the room.

“Here’s the thing. He’s amazing. He’s everything I could ever want in a husband. But he’s Lucius Malfoy’s son.”

Harry looked helplessly at Remus, but the other man remained silent. Waited. Harry knew he’d have to ask Remus something very specific, because Remus’ philosophy with upset friends was generally “don’t just do something, stand there.” The man could have out-waited Dumbledore, and probably had. So Harry tried to discern what he’d really come to ask Remus. He was staring out the window when he figured it out, and he turned to his adopted godfather with a smile on his face.

“Remus, tell me about marriage. What is it like? Being married?”

Remus gave Harry a small, wistful smile, and put his drink down. “Marriage? Well, it’s wonderful, really. Severus and I have only been married for three years now, but so far, I love being married. It’s a rather extraordinary combination of romance and ordinary life. We sleep next to each other every night, we share chores, we see each other at our best and worst, and we know that we have committed to stick with one another, through thick and thin. Marriage with Severus is… it’s really more happiness than I’d dreamed of, to tell you the truth. And yes, it is different than just dating and living together. At least, it is for me. 

“There was this time….” He sipped his scotch. “I remember Severus and I had this enormous fight before we got married. You know, I can’t even remember what started it anymore, but it was one of those huge messes where we both used our anger as an excuse to bring up every little offense that had been festering for months, and we both said absolutely terrible things. And I left. I walked out of our apartment and I went to Pomona’s place and I slept on her couch. I was all ready to just call it quits. And Severus, well, I actually think he was as well. It was Pomona who helped me see reason, actually. 

“But then, oh, I think it was about a year ago. Severus spilled something caustic all over the notes for my book, and no spell could recover my work. And I’d told him a thousand times to please keep his potions work in his lab, that’s why we’d reserved that space for him. But you know Severus, he thinks nothing in the universe is as important as potions.”

Remus had a fond smile on his face, and Harry was listening carefully to every word.

“So I got supremely, righteously angry, and Severus was terribly contrite but at the same time seemed to think I should have known better than to leave my only copy on the kitchen table.... Anyway, the thing is, walking away was never an option that time. Because things had changed.”

Remus shifted on the couch and now he looked at Harry and seemed to really see that Harry was listening. Remus’ smile broadened, and he looked warm and loving. Harry was struck, suddenly, with the idea that his godfather looked truly parental.

“When Severus and I stood up in front of all the people we care about, and promised to stay together, to listen to each other, to take each other seriously and do right by one another, it changed our relationship for the better. And I think that, although the wedding didn’t change me in some instantaneous, mysterious way, that marriage itself, living this commitment, has changed me. 

“Frankly, I think I am a better man now. Severus inspires me to be a better listener…” Harry snorted quietly and Remus ignored him, “…a better partner, a better person. I want to do right by him, because I love him. Because I want him to continue to be proud to be allied with me, and glad he married me.”

“What is the day-to-day life of marriage like, though?”

“Well, I have a partner. In the simple, practical aspects, we share the work. I pay the bills every other month instead of every month. I Vanish the garbage every other time instead of every time. We share our lives. I have a built-in date if I want or need to go somewhere. 

“And people expect us to be together. Marriage confers an assumption of permanence and social stability. People know that we’re married, and they assume we will be married for the rest of our lives, and so, for example, they don’t get all discomfited when they want to ask me how he is, because they aren’t worried that I’ll suddenly tell them that we’ve broken up. People used to do that sometimes before we got engaged.”

Remus took a sip of scotch and tipped his head slightly at Harry. “Is any of this helping?”

“Yes, actually, it really is. I think so, anyway. Is there anything else I should know? I feel I don’t quite know what else to ask.”

“I can’t think of anything right now, but should I let you know if I do?”

“Sure, yeah, that would be good. Just, you know, drop me an owl or something if you think of something important you forgot to say. Or firecall, see if I’m home. I’m taking this whole week off work. I have a lot of things I need to do. And actually, that reminds me; I wanted to ask you….”

Harry didn’t leave Remus’ house until after midnight, but when he got home, he sat down and wrote quite a few letters for Hedwig to deliver quietly. Luckily, Hedwig had become quite accomplished at delivering mail while the recipients slept. It was a skill Harry had needed her to develop during the war, when members of the Order slept whenever they could, and didn’t want their sleep disturbed unless it was truly important. So Harry had taught Hedwig how to slip in through the holes in the wards that nearly everyone created for properly identified owls, pluck the correct letter from her leg, and leave it on a table or the bed near the sleeper.

Once Hedwig had two legs full of rolled parchments, Harry finally went to sleep at two in the morning. When he woke at ten, he went for a run. Even though he hadn’t eaten, he felt far too full of energy to stay at home and sit. Not even to eat breakfast.

He spent Sunday and Monday making plans for Draco’s birthday and talking with friends about the letters Hedwig had delivered.

And exercising. He burned off every bit of nervous energy with running, weights, crunches, and the like. He found that his excitement about Draco’s birthday generated a lot of nervous energy, but Draco had noticed the results the last time Harry had added to his normal exercise routine, and Harry thought (and hoped) that perhaps Draco would notice again. So the exercise was easy to fit in, despite how busy he felt.

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When Tuesday evening finally rolled around, Harry was so eager to see Draco that he spent an hour getting ready and was still putting on his best brogues when he heard the wards chime the man’s arrival.

Harry rushed down to his front hall with one shoe still untied and smiled broadly at Draco, who looked Harry up and down appraisingly.

“My, my, Harry. You do clean up nicely. Are we going out?”

“I’d like to take you to my favorite Muggle Japanese restaurant tonight. I made a reservation for us for an hour from now.”

“An hour? Did you need a little… something… to take the edge off before we Apparate there?” Draco stepped close to Harry and put his hands lightly on Harry’s waist.

“Ohh, Draco, as delicious as you are, and as much as I look forward to tasting you, I thought we would go there the Muggle way, so we don’t really have time for anything other than travel. I hope that’s all right?” 

Harry suddenly sounded unsure, and Draco knew his role immediately. He put his hands together, almost as though he’d clapped in delight. “Muggle travel? Really? I would love to try that! How do we do this, then?”

Harry’s relief was sweet to see. He tied his shoe, took Draco’s hand, and guided him out the front door.

“First we walk a few blocks to the tube station. I don’t take the tube often at all, but I do kind of like it, actually. We won’t have to take the tube very far, just a few stops. Uezu’s is a tiny little out-of-the-way place, a well-kept secret. But the food! Oh, I forgot to ask if you like sushi and sashimi?”

Draco was horrified. “Of course I do, Harry! I spent quite a lot of time in Japan. All cultured people like sushi and sashimi. I know a great deal about fish.”

“I had no idea you’d gone to Japan, Draco! That’s wonderful! I’ve been there as well. Do you like to travel? I love traveling.”

“Harry… of course I like traveling!” Draco stopped walking and Harry stopped as well, looking at Draco curiously. Draco took a look at Harry’s face, and saw a handsome, eager, honest, loving man. Who barely knew him. “You know, there’s quite a lot you don’t know about me, and quite a lot I don’t know about you, for that matter. When were you in Japan?”

They began walking again, and Harry happily began to describe the year “off” that he’d taken between the war and Auror training. He’d been everywhere he wanted to go: Iceland, the United States, Israel, China, Japan and Vietnam, New Zealand and Morocco. Then, when he’d returned, an extensive exploration of Ireland and the whole United Kingdom – especially northern Scotland. 

Harry knew it was an odd collection of places to visit, but those were the places he had gotten curious about, so those were the places he had visited – some for long stretches indeed. He’d spent three months in the United States, seeing cities and national parks, Muggle museums and wizarding areas. He’d been seriously tempted to stay and study at Miskatonic, the famous wizarding University in Arkham, Massachusetts, but eventually realized that wasn’t what he really wanted to do. Morocco, on the other hand, he’d only visited for four days. It was too hot for him.

They got on the tube, and Draco was so fascinated by everything that Harry cast a broad but mild _Muffliato_ and quietly explained the trains, the money, the underground, and the small, shiny things almost everyone else carried in their hands or pockets. Draco found himself intrigued. Muggles seemed to make up for their lack of magic with “technology” which appeared not only to have impressive capabilities, but from what Harry told him, it changed and progressed rapidly. Magic and spells changed very little. New spells were sometimes invented, spells went in or out of fashion, but this technology seemed to behave entirely differently, and Draco was impressed.

Once they got off the train, they made their way up to the surface and walked for a few more minutes. Draco would have walked right past the restaurant had Harry not steered him to the door. It was completely unremarkable. 

The food, however, was divine. Uezu himself came over to greet them and discuss what was best that day, and his daughter was their server. This actually turned out to be a bit tricky, as Shiori took one look at Draco and lost her tongue.

Draco played it beautifully. He was sweet with the girl, but allowed Harry to do most of the talking, and he touched Harry frequently in front of her, but only in ways that were acceptable in polite company – mostly by putting his fingers over Harry’s hand or wrist. Draco had used a bit of Japanese with Uezu, but spoke only English in front of Shiori. She was a pretty thing of about twenty. Harry had never inspired anything like this in her, and he was a bit jealous at first, but then as Draco continued to have eyes only for him, he began to see the humour in it.

After they had eaten, paid, and thanked Uezu for a most delicious and beautiful meal, Harry guided Draco through a small but lively neighborhood. There were pubs, parks, attractive homes, and pretty people walking on the streets. 

“Shiori was so taken with you. I was a bit jealous at first.”

“You know I only want you, don’t you, Harry?”

Harry smiled at Draco, and Draco basked in it briefly. “I feel sure of that now, Draco, but you’re a beautiful man. I’m sure there were many before me. Do you miss anyone?” Harry didn’t look terribly distraught or insecure, but Draco knew he had to walk this line with care. Harry would know if he lied, especially because he didn’t think he could talk about this part of his past without conjuring visceral, visual memories. 

But he couldn’t speak too fondly of those years without risking Harry’s insecurities and possibly his anger. For Draco had been with more than a few lovers. He had actually been with more than he could count. Luckily, he missed none of them, and he didn’t particularly miss that part of his youth, either. Though sometimes it was fun to reminisce. 

“Well, I think you know I was twenty when I got out of Azkaban. It took me months to come out of my shell. But when I turned twenty-one, I decided life was short and I wanted to have fun. Thus began what I like to call my ‘paint-the-town-red’ days. I bought a flat in London and I… played. 

“I slept with men, I slept with women, more than once I slept with several people at the same time. I gambled, did wizarding drugs, Muggle drugs… I traveled all over the wizarding world looking for sex and substances and fun parties. It was back then that I saw Japan for the first time. 

“I made a few half-hearted stabs at real relationships but nothing meaningful, or good, came of it. I don’t miss anyone I knew back then. The whole thing lasted, oh, about six or seven years I guess. I had fun, but I’m lucky I didn’t get ill, or get someone pregnant. And after a while it was all so… hollow. I stopped wanting to live that way.”

They walked on in silence for a moment, and Draco decided it was time to take the focus off himself.

“Did you have a wild, misspent youth, Harry? After the war ended, I mean?”

“No, not really. Even though I didn’t officially start dating Ginny again until after my year of traveling, I always had her in the back of my mind as the one I was going to go back to. I did meet a girl in Arkham, and I slept with her several times while I was there. She’s really the reason I was tempted to enroll in Miskatonic, though it took me days to be honest with myself about that. Anyway, I completely lost track of her, and the girl I met in Iceland, too.”

“Am I the only man you’ve ever been with?” Draco didn’t bother to hide his surprise.

“No, you aren’t. You’re the second. During the war, I took some comfort in Justin Finch-Fletchley’s bed. And after Ginny and I broke up there were a couple of times when I invited Justin over. But after a while I couldn’t do that anymore. Justin and I weren’t going to fall in love, and it was so hollow, so meaningless. I didn’t like it.” 

Draco was terribly curious. “So you’ve had five lovers?”

“No, four. You, Justin, Ginny and Liora.”

“Liora was the one in Massachusetts, right?” Harry nodded. “So what about the one in Iceland?”

“Oh, I didn’t have sex with her.”

Draco calmly contemplated Harry’s innocence. And purity. Good gracious.

As they walked, Harry talked to Draco about all the Muggle things that Draco didn’t understand. Draco enjoyed learning about mobile telephones, mp3 players and personal digital assistants, but eventually he wanted to get into Harry’s pants and get Harry into him, so he started to play with Harry’s fingers. It was subtle, but effective. He was stroking Harry’s palm very, very gently with a fingertip when Harry steered them toward a taxi rank.

“Here, pet. Let’s take a taxi home.”

Draco merely smiled.

They got a taxi quickly, and Draco observed with interest as Harry spoke to the driver about where he lived. Wizards could be so much more private than Muggles could. After all, a good owl could find a person even if his address were secret. And one didn’t have to know anything at all about the surrounding area to Apparate somewhere. But Muggles, he could see, lived quite differently in that regard. Curious.

Draco had no idea of the etiquette of snuggling in taxis, so he sat on his side of the seat and looked out the window. Harry scooted over closer to Draco and put his arm around him, but then he simply quietly pointed out things of interest to him as they rode along.

Harry seemed to have to pay some attention to where the driver was going, and more than once he gave the man a bit of direction. It seemed to take a remarkably long time to get back to Twenty-seven Churchill Circle but perhaps that was the impatience of a wizard accustomed to Floo and Apparition. On the other hand, perhaps it was just the impatience of a man who had been next to his beautiful lover for several hours now without anything more lascivious occurring than a bit of hand-holding.

Finally, they were getting out of the taxi. Harry pulled a rectangle of colorful paper from his pocket. Draco saw £20 and a picture of a woman he thought might be the Muggle Queen. _So that’s a £20 note…_ he thought to himself. _That cost a lot more than the tube._

Harry told the driver to _Keep the change!_ and the man smiled and drove away. 

“I hope you had a good time tonight,” he said to Draco as they walked up to Harry’s door.

“You make it sound like our evening is over.”

Harry laughed. “Only the part that happens outside of the bedroom, pet.”

Draco kissed Harry’s jaw near his ear, and breathily whispered, “Good.”

The two men went upstairs quickly, though – perhaps to keep in the Muggle spirit – they used the stairs instead of Apparating.

Once inside Harry’s bedroom, Harry took charge. Draco was more than happy to cede control. 

Harry began by undressing himself quickly and carelessly; then slipping Draco’s tie off his neck in the most suggestive manner Draco had ever seen. Suddenly, he knew why men wore ties. It was purely to have a silky phallic symbol on one’s chest, pointing right down at one’s cock. Draco’s cock was already pointing upwards at his tie.

Once the tie was on the chair, Harry started on Draco’s shirt buttons. Each button was an excuse to stroke the next small bit of revealed skin. By the time the shirt was off, folded messily, and placed lightly on the chair, Draco’s cock was popping out of the top of his skimpy little briefs, but Draco said nothing and continued to stand passively while Harry took what he wanted.

Next, Harry removed Draco’s belt. This was, apparently, an excuse to tease the very tip of Draco’s hard cock with no mercy. Draco couldn’t stop himself from panting and making a few small noises, but otherwise he was the picture of passive acquiescence.

Harry slipped Draco’s trousers down, making sure to puff hot air over the tip of Draco’s cock as he sank down to his knees in front of Draco.

“I love watching you strip for me, pet, but stripping you myself might be even better.”

Draco was too turned on to smile his success. He could only stand still and struggle to stay in control.

“You wore something sexy under your trousers for me, baby. I like these. You look good enough to eat.”

Draco didn’t even have time to process the comment before Harry’s hot, wet mouth was on the head of his cock, still sticking out of the top of his maddening briefs.

Draco groaned loudly and put his hands in Harry’s hair. He wanted to beg Harry to pull the stupid cloth off him, but he was Harry’s plaything tonight, and they would do it all Harry’s way. 

Harry stroked Draco’s bollocks through the smooth fabric with one hand while he mouthed the head of Draco’s cock as best he could. Since it was pressing into Draco’s abs, Harry could only really get the underside with his tongue. Draco wanted so much more, but he held his words in. Harry’s other hand crept around to tease Draco’s arse cheeks, and Draco struggled to stand upright. He wanted to sink to the floor, to release control over his muscles and surrender his body completely to Harry’s power. But Harry wanted more than Draco’s body; he wanted Draco’s mind and will as well. So Draco forced himself to remain standing as his lover slowly teased the tight briefs down off his cock and the top of his arse.

As soon as Draco’s cock was completely freed, Harry stopped pulling the cloth down and took Draco’s entire cock into his mouth and throat. _Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck…_ was all Draco could think as Harry’s tight throat milked him. In and out, in and out, Harry sucked Draco’s cock down into his hot, wet, silken throat. _Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck…_ Draco’s balls were still constricted, confined in his half-shoved-down briefs; his arse was half-in and half-out of them, and Harry was still deep-throating him. 

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck….”

As much as Draco wanted to give Harry his complete obedience, his knees were buckling. Harry suddenly picked Draco up off the floor – one arm under his back, one under his knees – and somehow still kept his mouth on the head of Draco’s cock. Harry stood slowly, a bit awkwardly, but did not drop his lover or lose his grip.

Draco was pretty sure he’d never been so helplessly turned on in his entire life. 

Harry walked Draco slowly over to the bed, still sucking Draco’s cock and cradling him in his arms.

“Don’t hurt your back…” Draco managed. But Harry seemed completely in control, completely capable of this crazy feat.

He placed Draco on the bed, letting go of his cock with obvious reluctance. Then he climbed on, straddling Draco’s body with his own and looking into Draco’s eyes. 

Draco knew his heart was written all over his face, but right now he couldn’t hide. He wanted to reach up into Harry’s hair and pull his lover down for a kiss. Harry did it for him, pressing his entire body into Draco’s and kissing him, biting him, stroking him. Harry kissed him as if they were the only two beings in the universe.

Draco realized he was frotting against Harry’s cock, their foreskins dragging and catching on each other, but Harry didn’t stop him. He egged him on, frotting harder, faster. 

Harry breathed into Draco’s ear, “I want to watch you come, baby.” 

“I’m yours, my lover. Tell me and I’ll do anything, anything for you.”

Harry helped Draco into a sitting position, leaning against the headboard, propped on pillows. When he was sure Draco was comfortable, Harry moved over Draco’s cock and, without any more preamble, sucked Draco’s cock deeply into his throat again.

Draco’s brain emptied completely. He was nothing but nerve endings and white-hot lust. He wasn’t aware of it, but a noise of pure longing and pleasure emerged from his throat, and in mere moments, he was coming, staring into his lover’s deep green eyes.

Harry milked Draco’s cock for every last drop of come and sensation, then he moved up Draco’s body and held the other man in his arms. “You’re amazing,” Harry said sincerely.

Draco was completely unable to respond, and Harry continued, content with Draco’s wide-eyed, stunned, and sated silence.

“The way you respond to me, submit to me, give me everything you have… I haven’t had many lovers, but still… you’re like nothing I’ve even dared to dream of.” Harry’s eyes took on a wicked gleam. “And I want to shove my cock into your arse so deep that you deep throat _me_.”

Draco still couldn’t quite speak, but he could roll over and stick his arse in the air, so he did. Harry shoved a pillow under his lover’s hips and slicked his cock while Draco waited – completely relaxed and eager.

Harry slipped in easily, and Draco was immediately drowning in fullness, touch, cock, and Harry. His lover was touching him, it seemed, everywhere, inside and out. Impossibly, Draco’s cock began to stir and fill.

Harry skimmed his hands slowly down Draco’s arms. He slid his fingers over Draco’s, slipping in between to hold Draco’s hands, palm to back.

Harry’s thrusts were gentle and slow in this position. Draco felt overwhelmed by their closeness, their intimacy. 

When Harry came into him, Draco thought it almost felt like he had himself come a second time, even though he wasn’t even fully hard again.

The men fell asleep like that, Harry inside Draco and resting on his back, holding Draco’s hands. Neither moved for more than an hour.

The next morning, they woke after eleven, still entwined, on top of the duvet.

Then, after a shower and breakfast, Draco slipped away more easily than he had expected to. Harry seemed to be happy to wake with him, but also content to kiss him goodbye at the fireplace, with a mild reminder about dinner on Friday. Draco tried not to read too much into Harry’s easy ability to say goodbye. He knew he had no reason to feel insecure about Harry’s feelings for him.

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When Draco had gone, Harry dealt with some paperwork, then went to his room and masturbated fiercely. It was a guttering candle next to the sun that was sex with his lover, but he needed to get it out of his system before he met up with Percy and his wife. Marriage and children had mellowed the man, but he was still Percy.

Harry arrived at their home for lunch exactly on time, and Tracey gave him a broad smile. Percy had just arrived from the Ministry, she told him, and lunch would be in the dining room.

It took a few minutes to settle in and dispense with what were, with Percy and Tracey anyway, necessary pleasantries. But eventually Harry was able to get to the point of his visit.

“I was hoping that you could tell me what marriage is like for you two, as a Gryffindor married to a Slytherin?”

Percy was as pompous as always, at least when given a chance to lecture about something near and dear to his heart. He waxed on for a while about the sorts of things Harry’d heard from Seamus about complementary personalities and knowledge, and he pontificated as well on the idea that marrying across house rivalries was a fine and enduring gesture of peace and reconciliation in these post-war times.

When Percy was done pontificating and they had eaten, Harry thanked him warmly and made to leave. Tracey walked him to the door, and when they were alone in the front hall, Harry asked if she had anything to add. 

“Harry, I read the paper. I can guess what precipitated this call.”

Harry simply nodded.

“Draco and I were in Slytherin together, and I’ve come to know you fairly well since Percy and I got engaged. I think nothing could make me happier – for the both of you – than to see you with each other.”

Pleased to see that Harry was paying careful attention, Tracey continued. “You’re an excellent match. I’m not sure why I couldn’t see it before I saw you in the paper together a few weeks back. You’re both so intelligent, so fiercely loyal, so giving and so passionate. At the same time, I think, if I may borrow a phrase from my husband, that you have some different strengths and would complement one another quite well. And I hope you can see from so many of your friends and loved ones that a Gryffindor and a Slytherin can be very, very happy together.”

Harry thanked Tracey and kissed her on the cheek. Then – thinking things over – he slowly walked down the street for a mile or so before ducking into an alleyway and Apparating to a wizarding pub in Wales where Dean Thomas would be meeting him in a bit less than an hour.

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Two pints in, Harry was finally ready to get to the point. “Why Pansy, Dean? Why did you decide to marry Pansy?”

“Harry, Harry old man, she was everything I wanted in a woman! Besides, at some point you just have to bite the bullet, take the leap, and take the risk of moving on to the next stage. It was when I realized that I wasn’t ever going to do better than Panse that I bought that ring. She’s smart and funny, she never, ever lets me get away with anything, she’s so fucking cute, and she wants the same things from life that I do.”

Harry spent the rest of Wednesday and all of Thursday exercising and thinking with the telly on in the background, ignored.

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Friday came, and Draco arrived at Harry’s doorstep exactly on time. They sat down to dinner together, this time at Harry’s house. Winky was not only an excellent cook, she was a genius at buying wines from the wizarding markets. It wasn’t long at all before both men were feeling mellow.

As Winky brought in the desserts, Harry asked Draco something he’d been curious about since he’d read the letter Lucius had sent Remus.

“Oh!” Draco laughed. “The title! Yes, Father is a baron, though he doesn’t much like to talk about it.”

“See now, that’s why I was curious. It seems like exactly the sort of thing that your father would be terribly proud of and would talk about and drop into conversation at any half-arsed opportunity.”

Draco laughed. “It only seems that way because you know my father, and you know the title, but you don’t know how my family got the title!”

Harry sipped his wine and gestured for Draco to spill what he knew had to be an interesting story.

“How much do you know about Muggle history, Harry?”

“That’s a pretty broad question, Draco. I learned some history in the Muggle school I attended, but that ended when I was ten. I’m sure I don’t know as much as I would have if I’d stayed.”

“You aren’t the first half-blood a Malfoy has courted. A great-great to the somethingth ancestor of mine – I could tell you exactly if I weren’t a bit tipsy or if we were at the Manor and we went to the library – anyway, he married a half-blood witch whose Muggle father was a courtier in the court of Henry the Eighth. So, do you see where this is going?”

Harry shook his head, slightly bewildered.

“Old Henry was a philanderer of the first order. He would sleep with anything in a skirt, if she were pretty and willing. He was particularly fond of other men’s wives, and my forebear’s pretty wife caught the King’s eye. To pay men back for allowing their wives to grace the King’s bed, Henry would give them lands and titles. He passed them out like candy at a picnic! 

“A barony from Henry the Eighth is practically meaningless, and so it embarrasses my father. Not to mention, that half-blood witch died of some Muggle disease shortly after earning that title for her legal husband. She bore no children, not for my ancestor or for the King.

“My ancestor was disgusted with the whole business. He withdrew from the Muggle world and Muggle politics and all that, and actually that was when the Malfoy pureblood pride probably got its firm foothold, for his second wife was a pureblooded witch, and it was she who bore the heir and spare. 

“But my great-great-etc. kept the title, because, well, it was there. We’ve had the title ever since. Lucius never uses it except when he’s trying to impress someone whom he doesn’t really respect but who still has some power or influence, and even then he only uses it in print. He never introduces himself as Lord Malfoy.

“You know, Harry, that gives me an idea. I believe Lucius told Remus that he would cede the title to you if you married me. I think you should refuse it – the very next time you see him. Make like you couldn’t take the honor from him, like you respect him and you’re doing him a favour. Don’t let Lucius give you the title until he is dead. Pretend it’s a gift to him.” Draco smiled widely and sipped his wine.

“He’ll hate it! First, it shows Lucius that you aren’t impressed with the title. Even better, the less he thinks you feel beholden to him, the less Lucius is likely to interfere with us later – if we do get married, that is. Not to mention you get to remind him that he’s going to die someday and leave the world to others. He truly hates being reminded of his mortality.”

Harry smiled and agreed that perhaps he would do just that, and they talked of other things while they ate fresh fruit and sipped tea.

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After dinner, they pretended they might spend time in Harry’s library. Harry did finally manage to give Draco a tour of the entire house, but the library was quickly abandoned when Harry came up behind Draco while the blond was looking at Harry’s titles. When Harry pressed Draco right into the bookcase, Draco moaned with longing, and in seconds, they were in the bedroom and stripping desperately.

Harry was nude first again, as he treated his clothes carelessly. He went to help Draco finish removing everything and whispered, “I want to tie you to the bed.”

“I want you to.”

“Lie down then.”

Draco pulled off his last sock and lay in the middle of Harry’s bed.

“ _Incarcerous_ ,” Harry whispered. Silken ropes appeared at the upper corners and soon Draco was where he most liked to be – at Harry’s gentle mercy.

First Harry tested the bonds to make sure Draco wasn’t uncomfortable, then he ran teasing soft caresses all over Draco’s straining, eager body. On a whim, he conjured a silken gag and tied it gently around Draco’s face. It was more symbolic than restricting, as it was simply fabric. But it was in Draco’s mouth, interfering with his ability to speak and kiss. And Harry had put it there with his own, strong hands. Draco found his cock hardening even further as Harry finished fastening the slight restraint.

Then Harry conjured a red snitch and put it into Draco’s right hand. “You might not be able to talk easily, my dear, so let go of this if you need me to stop, if I hurt you. It’s charmed to bop me right in the head if you let go of it. I’ll know to stop right away.”

Draco couldn’t stop the tenderness he felt from leaking out all over his face. His Harry. His wonderful, darling Harry.

Harry teased Draco’s arsehole with his tongue for a few, wonderful moments. Draco found that the gag had a similar effect to the blindfold. He thrashed, he moaned, he whined. He could care less what he looked or sounded like, for he had ceded all control to his lover and he knew, with a surety born of ropes and a gag, that he was wanted and desired and treasured. Nothing spoke to Draco of being desired quite like being prevented from leaving the bed!

Soon Draco saw Harry slick himself; then his lover lifted his legs and speared into him in one swift, fierce movement. Draco’s scream was throaty and heart-felt. _Yessss… just where you belong._

They came almost simultaneously and fell asleep snuggled together in the very center of Harry’s large bed, the little charmed snitch still clutched tightly in Draco’s fist.

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On Saturday, Draco didn’t leave until after lunch. Once he’d gone, Harry spent the rest of the day preparing for Draco’s birthday celebrations. His boyfriend would be turning thirty-one tomorrow. It was going to be a special day, indeed.

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	10. Turning Thirty-One

This fic is now NC-17 and should remain firmly in that camp. No kids!

Summary: The Dark Lord is gone, Lucius is finally out of prison, and the Malfoy name is in the toilet. But Lucius knows just how to redeem it...  
Warnings: Dominance/submission games, Lucius!bashing, manipulative!Draco, future mpreg implied.  
Pairing: Harry/Draco  
Genres: Romance, Fluff, Smut

Disclaimer: They aren't mine, they belong to the clever Scottish lady. I just bend them and love them. Please don't smack me for playing. It isn't like I am going to earn any money from this!

Beta by 13_Moons and DrGaellon.

Chapter 10 

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As Draco expected, Harry arrived at the front door of the Manor precisely on time. The house-elf that let him in was polite, but Draco kept him waiting in the parlor for a few minutes.

Finally, Draco entered the room. Harry was already looking for him, and smiled widely when Draco appeared in the doorway.

“I hope this outfit is appropriate, Harry; you have this appalling habit of not telling me where we are going.” Draco’s smirk was pure tease. His outfit was fairly fancy for Muggle-casual and multi-layered, for Draco truly hadn’t been able to guess where they might be spending the day. 

“You’ll be fine. I thought we could walk in the gardens first. We have half an hour until the place opens. But won’t you please come over here and greet me properly? I want to wish you a happy birthday.”

Draco walked slowly over to Harry, watching the look of hunger on his lover’s face. He stopped just out of reach, so Harry stepped forward and closed the gap quickly. Then he reached out with the fingers of his right hand and stroked Draco’s hair away from his cheekbone and behind his ear. Draco tried not to shiver with pleasure when Harry’s fingers stroked the outer curve of his ear very, very slowly.

Then Harry’s fingers stole behind and underneath Draco’s hair, and caressed the back of his neck. As Harry moved in to kiss Draco’s lips, with his head tipped to the side; Draco heard Harry say “Happy birthday, lover.”

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They strolled in the lovely gardens for a while, not caring about the time. When Draco explained that Lucius and Narcissa were in Edinburgh for the day, Harry lay Draco down on the grass and stripped him of every stitch. 

“Please, take off your clothes too!” Draco begged, but Harry refused. 

“Today is about you,” he insisted. Draco tried to hold off, but with his cock in Harry’s mouth and Harry’s finger on his prostate, there was only so much control he could exert over himself. 

When Draco was spent and relaxed, Harry undid his trousers, held Draco’s naked body close, kissed him deeply, and wanked until he came. He refused to allow Draco to help, other than by putting his hands on Harry’s torso, and with kissing that only faltered in its intensity just as Harry began to come.

When they were dressed and tidy again, Harry took Draco into his arms and said “It’s time for your first surprise, baby.”

Draco put his face into the crook of Harry’s neck and closed his eyes, awaiting the Side-Along Apparition.

He was quite surprised to emerge in the midst of a small stand of trees, next to a tall fence, in a place with weather that felt identical to the Manor gardens.

“So Draco, have you ever been to the Colchester Zoo?”

“The what?”

So, Harry explained the concept of the Muggle Zoo. They emerged together from the trees and walked towards an entrance. Harry paid with Muggle bills, got a small, colorful map, and they walked in with a stream of Muggle families.

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They saw intelligent orang-utans and kooky penguins, sleek sea lions and incredible, gorgeous big cats. They stayed to look at the white tiger for a long while, leaning over the fence. Draco quite enjoyed hearing Harry tell him how the tiger reminded Harry of Draco. 

Apparently, they were both beautiful, graceful, sleek and strong. Harry also seemed to think Draco had claws and teeth in common with the tigers. Describing them both as elusive, sought after, and legendary might have been stretching the matter a bit, but by then Harry was whispering in his ear and Draco cared far more for the medium than the exact words of the message.

It piqued Draco’s curiosity enough to wonder what his Animagus form might be, and he decided to look into the study of becoming an Animagus. He was quite impressed to learn as they walked from the tigers toward the Amur Leopard that Harry’s father and godfather had both achieved their Animagus forms while still at Hogwarts.

“So you’re a powerful wizard all on your own, aren’t you? You inherited it from your father. At least! I’d love to hear more about your mother. I’m sure you know that a lot of wizards and witches think your strength is all about the surge of power you got when you finally got rid of the Dark Lord for good.”

“Oh Draco, this has got to be one of my least favorite topics of conversation.”

“I’m sorry. I should have been able to figure that out on my own, I suppose.”

“No, of course not.” Harry turned his head toward Draco and smiled warmly at him. “I’m so glad we have all day to talk and get to know each other better. You were right the other night when you pointed out how little we know about each other. I hope to remedy that a bit today.” He took a deep breath before he continued. “So, let’s get this out of the way. Yes, I absorbed some of Voldemort’s magic when I killed him. Yes, I am more powerful than I was, by a significant amount. On the other hand, I did kill him before I got that extra power. What I absorbed from Voldemort allows me to take you with me to Ogygia via Apparition so we don’t have to bother with Portkeys, or magically apprehend six suspects at once, when most of my colleagues can only do one at a time. But I killed that bastard all on my own, with what I inherited from my mother and father, and with what I learned by training and working for that day.”

Harry reached for and took Draco’s hand in his own. Harry’s wand hand was large, warm, and strong. This was the hand that had pointed a wand at the Dark Lord and reduced him to ash. Draco had a sudden, unpleasant flash of visual memory: taking the Dark Mark – prostrating himself at those horrible feet – in terror, pride, and an overwhelming hope that he would somehow be able to save his family. Assuming Harry had seen the memory in his mind, Draco turned to look at his boyfriend’s eyes. They were sympathetic and caring. 

“Thank you, Harry. You saved my parents. And me. I don’t want to make a big deal of it, or forget everything else that you are, but I really needed to thank you for it – just this once.”

“Draco… you’re welcome.” Harry looked a bit sad. “But don’t turn me into a symbol.”

“Mmmm…” Draco put on a somber face. “How about a sex symbol?”

And just like that, the heavy mood was broken, and Harry was smiling again.

They walked slowly from the cats past several other exhibits, and Draco found himself utterly fascinated by the large flock of flamingoes. They were magical birds, surely? Harry didn’t know either, but Draco stared and stared at their pink feathers and bizarre undulating necks.

“Harry, there’s something I’ve been wondering about.”

“Ask away, pet.” Harry’s smile was warm and indulgent. Apparently, a Draco fascinated with big pink birds was a cute Draco. Draco was pleased by Harry’s amusement. This zoo visit was turning out to be delightful.

“Baby, please don’t be bothered by this, but how did you get so kinky when you’ve had so few lovers?”

“Draco,” Harry’s face was all amused forbearance. “It isn’t about quantity; it’s about quality. I don’t kiss and tell, but I will remind you that Ginny and I were together for many years.”

“So you’ve done all these things before?” Draco was working hard to keep his voice mild and his face merely attentive. He wasn’t sure he was succeeding. 

“You mean the things we do in bed?” He must be failing, for Harry looked concerned.

Draco nodded and Harry steered them to a quiet corner, away from the other people. Then he cast a few spells that Draco could tell would preserve their privacy.

Draco was horrified at his sudden sadness. Harry was thirty, for heaven’s sake. He couldn’t possibly expect to be Harry’s “first anything.” That was ridiculous.

“Draco, sex with you… fuck baby, I’m getting hard just thinking about the things we do. And yes, I’ve done those ‘things’ before, I suppose: restraints, the safeword-snitch, playing with power and dominance… and I bought most all my sex toys long ago. But what you give me, the way we are together – it’s the newest, the most magical sex. You _are_ my first lover in some ways, you know that? Because you’ve been on my mind since I was a virgin, for one thing, and because you fill me with lust to the point where I feel seventeen again, for another. You make me want to act out every fantasy. You make me want to fuck you constantly. Hell, you make me want to sneak back in here with you some night and fuck you in the tiger cage.”

Draco’s cock jerked, filling halfway with blood at the very idea. He felt his face flush slightly, and he allowed his eyes to widen slightly. 

“You like that thought, don’t you, lover?”

Draco nodded his answer.

“Oh, baby, I wish I could strip you and sit you on my cock right here, right now, on that bench there, in front of those big pink flamingoes you like so much. I wish I could press up against you and kiss you, lower you to the ground and fuck you so hard and deep that you scream.”

Draco could tell his eyes were becoming glassy. His mouth was struggling to stay closed. He wanted all those things, too.

“But I’m not going to fuck you in front of all these Muggles, pet, because I don’t want to share you with anyone. Not even people who can’t see or hear you.”

Draco nodded distractedly. His mind was still on the image of Harry laying him on the ground next to the flamingo enclosure and fucking him until he screamed.

Harry’s fingers were on his chin, so Draco dragged his mind out from underneath the bushes and back to Harry’s face and eyes. “You wanted to know if I’ve done these things before? The answer is no, Draco. Everything I do with you is new. Every time I touch you, it’s exciting and overwhelming. I find it as hard to keep my hands off you now as I did when we were fighting all the time back at Hogwarts. You don’t have to do something with me first to make it special.”

Harry tugged at Draco’s hand and guided him back into the trafficked areas.

“C’mon, pet. There’s more to this zoo than these pink birds.” Harry gave a confident grin, and Draco allowed Harry to pull him along. 

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They meandered along with the crowd, then debated whether or not to enter the “Kidz Zone.” Eventually they decided that they would stop there for a slice of pizza each, as it was nearly lunchtime already.

Sitting down to enjoy their food and canned drinks, they cuddled close. The zoo was crowded, after all, which was a lovely excuse to get cozy.

Harry was clearly happy, observing all the children. Draco was busy observing Harry. Babies really caught Harry’s attention, but toddlers made him laugh. A pair of athletically inclined brothers seemed to make him smile, and a chubby little girl in pigtails and trainers put a goofy grin on his face. Harry was clearly more than ready to try fatherhood. Draco could only hope it would be with him. Soon.

As they finished their drinks and slices of pizza, Draco realized he could hear a man near them making homophobic remarks about the two of them. He was a clean-cut fellow in a nice outfit, with two small boys that looked just like him, and no wedding ring. 

Draco had no desire to make a scene. He had almost no experience in the Muggle world, and hadn’t the slightest idea what was proper. He just wished the man would shut his ugly mouth and go away.

However, Harry clearly felt no such reticence. He half-stood and leaned over the table, looking rather threatening.

“I’m sorry, did I just hear you call my boyfriend and me ‘screaming poofs’?”

The Muggle swallowed, but seemed to think he had to defend his execrable behavior; he repeated himself, and slightly more lewdly this time, oddly enough. Didn’t he see that there were children all around? Including his own?

Harry stood, seeming far taller than his five feet, eleven inches. The homophobic Muggle stood and stepped between Harry and his little boys. 

Harry’s voice went low and menacing. “Those are your sons, I assume?” The Muggle nodded. “Where is their mother?”

That was when Draco, Harry, and half the restaurant learned that the homophobe was divorced.

“So, a shining example of the beauty and superiority of heterosexuality, are you, then?”

The Muggle seemed to think that his own marital status was irrelevant when compared to the depravity of Draco and Harry sitting next to each other in a public place that was set aside for “impressionable children.”

“So, you think two people sitting close to each other is dangerous for children to see? Somehow, you and their mother breaking up and divorcing is nothing, but seeing two complete strangers expressing some affection is damaging to your sons? Sir, I confess I’m not at all surprised that their mother is no longer your wife. Who would want to be with a man as nasty and stupid as you? Who would want to be affectionate with a man who believes affection can be evil and harmful?

“Since my boyfriend and I are harming your sons by our very existence, we’ll go. We were done eating anyway. But I suggest, ‘ _Sir_ ,’ that you give this issue some thought.” 

Only Draco saw the wand movement. He stood and they walked out, dropping their trash in the bin as they walked away.

When they were out of hearing range of the restaurant, Draco asked about the spell he knew Harry must have cast. What had it been?

“Saw that, did you? It’s something Hermione found in a book and modified for Justin. For about a week, give or take half a day, that man will see queers everywhere. It will be like an overwhelming, inaccurate sense of gaydar. Comments people make, movements, the clothes they wear, everything will seem like a sign of homosexuality. For a week, he’ll suspect everyone he knows, including himself, of harboring homosexual tendencies. The hope is that after it wears off, the one who experienced it will still understand that we’re everywhere, we look and act and talk like the rest of the world, and we’re pretty much ordinary and just like everyone else.”

Draco took a moment to be stunned, yet again, at the phenomenon that was Hermione. But then he went back to the more obvious subject for his curiosity. “For Justin? I assume you mean Finch-Fletchley?”

“Yes. You see, Justin took me home to meet his parents once, during a sort of a lull in the war. We were lovers, and I think we both hoped we could be more than that – though that really wasn’t ever going to happen. But I didn’t know that, then.”

Harry got a funny, wry look for a moment, then banished it.

“Anyway, Justin’s parents were not at all pleased to learn that not only was he not willing to go to University, he was sleeping with another boy.”

“But surely anyone would have been thrilled to meet you, Harry? Even if they’d have preferred that their son date girls?”

“Justin’s Muggle-born, Draco. His parents had no idea who I was. It was refreshing at first, but then, well…. When Hermione heard about the disastrous visit, she decided to come up with an ‘educational little charm’ for people like Justin’s parents.”

“Did it help?”

Harry started to laugh. “Well, yes and no. Since their son is a wizard, Bonnie and Philip quickly realized that magic was probably involved. At first they were pretty annoyed at him. But the charm lasts a whole week, and it did end up changing their thinking. Perhaps, in part, because they knew it wasn’t entirely real, actually. But unlike that arsehole back at the pizza place, they’re intelligent, reflective people. And they were quite motivated by their love for Justin. In the end it worked out just fine, and Bonnie and Philip are very comfortable with who Justin is. I hope the enchantment has a beneficial effect on that pillock we just ran into. I feel sorry for his sons.”

“Did you think one of them was gay?”

“I don’t have to, to feel sorry for them. Look at who their father is! Plus their parents are divorced. I always feel bad for kids who don’t live with both of their parents.”

Draco considered this for a moment. It was easy to forget that Harry was an orphan, as he’d pretty much always been one. He spared a moment to wonder if Harry had any sort of relationship any more with the aunt and uncle who had raised him. He never mentioned them. _I’ll ask about that later,_ Draco decided.

“It sounds like Justin is an important friend to you, Harry. Is that right?”

Harry paused and stared into the sky for a moment. Then he squeezed Draco’s hand and answered. “Yes, I suppose he is. He was the first man I ever slept with, and his affection and attention were a great comfort during the worst of the war. And when Ginny moved to Australia and the press went crazy about my sex life, he was the only person I felt safe in calling for a date or… anything like that.” Harry blushed a bit.

Draco smiled at Harry’s modesty and innocence. “It’s all right, sweetheart. You’re hardly the first man to have a fuck-buddy. I’m glad Justin was there for you. Then.”

Harry caught the implication right away. “Yes, Draco. That was then. You are all I need in my bed now. And I think I prefer ‘friend-with-benefits’ to ‘fuck-buddy.’ Fuck-buddy is a bit crude and dismissive, I think.”

“Of course, Harry.” Draco stepped a bit closer, and they continued to walk.

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They saw a display of African animals: giraffes, rhinos, and ostriches, among others. Draco was particularly taken with the black-and-white-striped zebras, for – though he did not say so to Harry – they reminded him of the two of them: dark and light beautifully matched and artistically arranged. Complementing one another without diluting or changing. _Pfft. I’m such a sap sometimes_ , he chided himself.

They were looking at the vultures and spoonbills in a walkthrough aviary when Harry brought up Draco’s childhood.

“You told me once that you hated being an only child, Draco. I’d like to hear about that, if you’ll tell me.”

“Of course. I assume you overheard the conversation I had with Molly and Arthur about why I’m an only child?”

Harry stopped walking as he blanched, then blushed. “How the hell did you know that?”

Draco took a small risk and kept a carefully straight face. “I didn’t know for certain until you told me.”

Harry steered Draco out of the aviary and away from most of the other people. “You are **such** a… a… **Slytherin**!"

Thank sweet Moses, Harry was smiling as he said it. 

“Yes, Harry, you’ve got me. But you knew I was a Slytherin when you agreed to court me, now didn’t you? At any rate, I didn’t know you would overhear that conversation directly, but I assumed you’d either hear it or hear about it. But everything I said was true, you know. My father hates Arthur, envies him all his sons, caused his own problem and refuses to acknowledge his own culpability.”

Draco sighed and stared back toward the aviary filled with large, captured birds. They could still fly, but they nonetheless could not leave.

“Of course, I didn’t know most of that while I was growing up. All I knew back then was that I was it – the only Malfoy heir. Father needed some sort of perfect little copy of himself. A guarantee of brilliance, grandchildren, magical and political success, good marks, physical flawlessness, you name it. And it all had to come from me. I would have very much liked a brother or two to share that burden.”

Draco scowled. He could use Lucius all he liked to manipulate Harry, but sometimes the things he said were true enough to wound even himself a bit.

“The Manor was a little lonely sometimes, as well. Only so many people were good enough to socialize with.” Draco decided it was time to lighten the mood. “Oh, goodness, they taught me to be such a terrible snob!”

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They saw cheetahs, more tigers, and some wolves. Then Harry told Draco that they were almost through with the zoo, but that there was one last display they should see, and it was very special. 

Draco had no idea what Harry could possibly be so excited about, until they rounded the corner and he saw a sign that – were he not in a Muggle place – he could have sworn said “Dragons.”

But as they got closer, he saw that the sign did indeed have “Dragons” written on it. “Dragons of Komodo”, to be precise. 

“Harry?” he whispered. “How could there be dragons here?”

“They aren’t real dragons, Draco. They’re enormous snake-like lizards. The Muggles just call them dragons. You have to see them!”

Harry pulled excitedly at Draco’s hand and moved toward the enclosure. But Draco saw that he was casting with his wand in his other hand. Paying attention to the motions and the whispers and the sensations he got from what Harry was erecting, he guessed that they were mild Muggle-repelling wards. They wouldn’t last more than ten or fifteen minutes, and they wouldn’t even be noticed by anyone who had a good reason to enter the facility – such as a zookeeper.

Why would Harry want them to be alone with the Muggle dragons?

He found out soon after they entered. They had to wait for a family to leave, but once they were alone in the enclosure with the “dragons,” Harry started to speak to them.

In Parseltongue.

Draco hadn’t heard Harry speak Parseltongue since their second year at Hogwarts. And at twelve he was far too young to have the reaction he was having right now.

Draco knew, in some corner of his mind, that the thoughts and ideas of Komodo Dragons were probably fascinating. And someday he would surely remember to ask Harry what the beasts had said. But for now, all he could do was reach for Harry’s hand and place it on the front of his trousers.

Harry was apparently too distracted by his reptilian conversation to notice anything was unusual, until what had probably seemed like an attempt at hand-holding turned out to be something quite different.

When Harry’s hand came into contact with Draco’s rock-solid cock he stopped hissing and turned slowly to look into Draco’s wide-open, lustful eyes.

Then Harry gave his lover a small, evil grin, and squeezed.

Harry suddenly had his wand out and began casting. Mild Muggle-repelling charms were upgraded to wards that wouldn’t allow in anything less powerful than a bull elephant. Draco stood silently as his lover cast powerful magic with his wand hand and stroked Draco’s needy cock with the other.

Then, when the wards were up, Harry yanked Draco’s trousers and briefs off and put him up on the railing. Draco balanced himself on the fence while Harry opened his own clothing and pulled out his own, hardening cock.

“I told you earlier that I wouldn’t share you with other people, pet. But I’ll share my Dragon with Dragons.”

Then Harry quickly lubricated his cock with a whisper, and pushed himself deep into his lover’s body in one swift thrust.

Draco held on to Harry’s shoulders with his hands and Harry’s waist with his calves. The railing wasn’t comfortable but Harry was holding him and so the railing was almost irrelevant. Harry, as always, felt spectacular as he moved enthusiastically inside Draco’s body.

But then he began speaking to the Komodo Dragons again, and Draco was lucky he didn’t fall right off the railing.

Draco came so quickly it was almost embarrassing, except for the impish, self-satisfied grin it put on Harry’s face.

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After some gentle cleaning charms, they both dressed quickly and Harry removed the wards. They hadn’t been long, and no-one seemed to have noticed the privacy Harry had created for them. Draco wondered for a moment if that was Harry’s magic or simple good fortune. He was about to ask when Harry turned to him and asked if he was hungry. Despite the pizza, Draco realized that he was.

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They ate at a Thai place in Cardiff that Draco liked. The place was almost deserted, as it was too early for dinner and too late for lunch.

Harry refused to tell Draco what else he had planned, so Draco decided to ask Harry about his aunt and uncle.

There was a cousin, too, as it turned out, and Harry had almost no contact with them. This wasn’t Harry’s choice nearly as much as it was that of the Muggle relatives, but Harry didn’t seem to miss them at all.

“When Remus and I decided to formally make him my official godfather, I felt very comfortable leaving the family of my childhood behind. Remus became my father then, and when he married Severus, Severus became my father as well. I call him my step-father sometimes, just to needle him.” Harry grinned like a schoolboy.

They lingered over their nam sod and pad thai until nearly five o’clock. Then Harry suddenly caught sight of a clock and was ready to leave. Draco still had no idea where they were going.

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They arrived in a place so green it almost hurt to look at it. The land was nobbly and carved in a fashion that looked completely unnatural. Draco wondered at it. Magical gardening techniques weren’t usually this sophisticated or employed on such a large scale.

Harry took Draco’s hand, and guided him around a few green knolls and elaborately, yet still crudely made rock patterns, and then suddenly they were in front of an adorable and rather large cottage.

“We’re in the Fairy Glen, near Uig on the Isle of Skye. This is my cottage. It’s the first place I ever bought. I often spend the whole weekend here in the summertime. It has to be very carefully hidden, as the Muggles love this place. They’ve got tours coming through here all the time. But now you’ll know how to find it.”

Harry beamed at Draco, and Draco smiled back, happy to see yet another special place that his boyfriend loved.

“Let’s go in, shall we? I’ll show you around inside.”

Harry opened the door and motioned Draco to precede him. Draco did so slowly, as it was rather dark inside.

Draco probably should have anticipated it, but he was genuinely caught off-guard as a group of friends jumped up with wands lit and yelled “Surprise!”

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The party was not only tremendous fun, it was a nice opportunity to catch up with a few old friends, for Harry had invited quite a lot of Slytherins. Of course, people like Blaise and Pansy were there, as those two arrived with Seamus and Dean. Remus and Severus were there as well, and Draco found himself surprised at how touched he was to see Severus in such an informal and friendly atmosphere. It occurred to him that Severus was a part of Harry’s family now, and if Draco married Harry, then Severus would be a part of Draco’s family, as well. That, he decided, could be quite nice indeed. At least it would, once he got over feeling slightly stiff and formal with his former Head of House.

Hermione and Ron Weasley were there as well, but those two were almost his friends now. And they seemed perfectly comfortable around him, and seemed as well to feel that he and Harry being together was as ordinary and welcome as Blaise with Seamus or Pansy with Dean.

Percy and Tracey came as well, though they didn’t stay very long. Still, Draco was glad to catch up with Tracey. He’d always thought highly of her.

The surprise was Vincent and his wife Iris. Iris was Pansy’s second cousin. She’d started Hogwarts in Draco’s fifth year and although she’d been in Slytherin and related to someone he knew well, he’d never gotten to know her. Vincent had obviously, but that wasn’t really the surprise.

“Harry? I see Vince and Iris are here…. How did that happen?”

Harry looked a bit bewildered. “I invited them, sweetie.”

Draco felt a touch of exasperation at Harry’s overwhelming straightforwardness. “I meant, why did you invite them, lover?”

Harry still looked bewildered. “I owled Pansy and asked who she thought I should invite, and she said you’d probably enjoy seeing Vince again, that you two were pretty close.”

Draco stopped to ponder this. Harry had invited someone to his home that he barely knew, who was a Slytherin and wasn’t married to or dating a Gryffindor. For Draco. Because he’d asked Pansy for advice. Just to do something nice for Draco.

Draco bestowed his very best smile upon Harry. “You’re a wonderful boyfriend, Mr. Potter.” Then Draco kissed him.

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As gifts, Draco received a few bottles of truly excellent Scotch, a beautiful box that was charmed to sing when opened by the owner (and not anyone else), a pair of cufflinks with preening dragons, and a Hogwarts snow globe.

Harry gave him a tiny white box with a little circle on the front and strings that had little bobs on the end. This turned out to be an mp3 player. Harry had filled it with a breathtaking variety of Muggle music. Draco looked forward to wearing it while he exercised and discovering which songs he liked.

They all sat down to a late dinner together, and Pansy must have told Harry what Draco’s favorite English foods were, for both roast lamb and roast potatoes were on the table.

After they ate, they sat around the fireplace and laughed together, telling stories and jokes. They shared a bottle of wine, ate cheap crisps, and learned all over again what lovely friends they had.

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After the last guest had left, Harry gave Draco a complete tour of the cottage, which was indeed a place he could see eagerly visiting again and again. It was comfortable, attractively decorated, charming and well stocked with pleasant diversions, like good chocolates in the cupboards and a hot tub on the back porch.

Draco thought perhaps they would strip down and take advantage of that tub, but Harry asked him to go dancing back in London, and Draco loved the idea.

With the help of a Malfoy house-elf, Draco obtained a better outfit for clubbing, and the two men changed clothes in separate rooms. They Apparated together to an alleyway around the corner from a Muggle club in London known for it’s marvelously lively – and gay – nightlife.

Dancing with Harry was fabulous. Their sexual relationship had quickly evolved to a point where Harry made almost all the choices. Draco was enjoying every minute of it, but a dance floor was the perfect place to take back a bit of control. He danced and preened and shook his hips and stretched and rubbed up against Harry and just took every opportunity he had to tease his lover tongue-tied. 

Harry repeatedly asked Draco if he was ready to leave the club, and over and over Draco said no. “I’m having such a wonderful time, Harry. Dance with me.”

Draco was vaguely aware that a lot of men in the club were looking at him, but he only cared because that got Harry to dance closer, sexier, more possessively. How could anyone compare to Harry? 

But Harry did not seem as confident of Draco’s lust and affection as Draco was. Or perhaps he simply wanted all the other men to stay away. He was possessive and aggressive and always, always very physically close. Draco spent the entire time at the club with an erection that threatened to open the seams on his sexy clubbing trousers.

When they needed a break from dancing, they would walk to the bar. Draco drank screwdrivers, heavy on the orange juice. He needed vitamins a lot more than alcohol right now.

Then the song would change, or he would finish his drink, and Draco would drag Harry back into the thick of the dancing.

Finally, Harry stopped accepting Draco’s passive resistance. 

“Did you finish your drink, baby?”

Draco nodded and moved toward Harry, to bring him back to the dance floor. But Harry took hold of both of Draco’s arms and gave him a meaningful look. 

Draco went a bit weak in the knees. He adored teasing Harry, touching him, making him wait. But… feeling Harry exert control, seeing Harry reach his limit and rein Draco in…. Yes, it was an excellent birthday indeed.

Harry brought Draco into the men’s room and then into a stall. Draco thought they were about to have sex in a public toilet. That didn’t seem like Harry’s style, but Harry could make anything good, so he simply followed and trusted.

But Harry took Draco into his arms and silently Apparated them out of the club, and into a shining, protective bubble of magic.

Draco stayed exactly where he was, held in Harry’s strong arms, but he looked at the bubble and tried to see what was beyond it. There was clearly some sort of light source shining on it, for the whole thing was reflecting and Draco had no idea where they were, other than outdoors somewhere in England.

“Do you know where we are?” Harry’s voice was different. Low, intense, hopeful and smug.

“I can’t see a thing outside of this bubble, Harry. I have no idea where we are.”

“See if you can figure it out, pet.”

“A little game then, lover?” Draco was amused and let it show. What did Harry have up his sleeve? He walked away from Harry toward the source of the light. That didn’t help. He still couldn’t tell what it was, and the closer he got to it the worse the glare, so he tried another tactic. The ground was dirt, with some grass and scraggly vegetation. They certainly weren’t in a nice garden. He walked to the other end of the bubble and pressed his face up against it. What he saw nearly drove his heart from his chest. A white tiger was right on the other side of the bubble. And it was staring at him. Draco staggered back a step as the enormous, frightening tiger put up a paw and tested the strength of the thin, tensile bubble that kept him and Harry from becoming a late night snack.

“Harry?” Draco squeaked.

Harry was right behind him now, holding him steady and speaking into his ear. “Don’t fret, lover. We’re completely safe. This shield will protect us from the tigers.” He slowly spun Draco around to face him. “Now, I can’t decide. Do I fuck you while the tigers try to get in, or do I let one in here, stupefy it, and fuck you while you lay on top of it?”

Draco stared at Harry. This had to be the most perverted thing anyone had ever conceived of, let alone offered to do with him. He had no answer.

“Speechless, are you, pet? You teased me all night at that club. Now I can’t wait to fuck you. I’ve been thinking of it all day, since I mentioned it this morning. As soon as those words fell out of my mouth, I knew that was how we would finish celebrating your birthday. I’ve just been waiting and waiting for the opportunity. I didn’t want to be discovered by a zookeeper, but it’s the early hours of the morning now. Besides, if you’d ground your hot little arse into my cock one more time on the dance floor, I’d have come in my trousers.”

Harry pressed his pelvis into Draco’s, and Draco moaned quietly. Then Harry pointed his wand at the light source, and it dimmed and dimmed until Draco could see that it was a street light, and that both tigers were circling the magical barrier.

“So, lover, what will it be? Two tigers out there watching us, or one out there and one underneath you, all soft fur and sheathed claws, threatening to wake up at any second?”

Draco forced his mouth shut and spun Harry a line of bullshit that he hoped would help him save a bit of face. He did not want to fuck with a four hundred pound, ten-foot-long killing machine of a Stupefied tiger underneath him. “These are a mated pair, Harry; I don’t want the one to worry about the other. Leave them both outside.”

His darling, sentimental Gryffindor fell for it. “Oh, Draco! You’re right! That’s so thoughtful of you. And romantic as well. Of course, we’ll do it just as you say.” He paused. “Now take these off me.”

Focusing on the sentiments he’d felt as Harry had led him into a dirty bathroom stall – _Harry can make anything good, I will follow and trust him…_ – Draco began to undress his boyfriend. Tight black t-shirt, up over the head. Black trainers off, first the left, then the right. Sinfully sexy black jeans, unsnapped, unzipped, pushed down. Briefs, over the hips and down off the legs. One foot, then the other. When Harry was completely nude, holding his wand in one hand, clothing in a heap behind him, Draco was still dressed, and kneeling at his feet.

The tigers paced. Draco heard one of them growl. But the shield held without a flicker. Draco stayed at Harry’s feet and looked up into his lover’s eyes. Harry’s cock was filling, getting harder, as Draco watched.

Harry flicked his wand at the ground behind Draco, and bid Draco stand. Draco stood and looked behind him, where he saw that Harry had conjured a large mattress with a sheet, but no pillows, blankets, or bed frame.

Harry began to undress Draco silently. As he removed articles from Draco’s body, he would tease and linger on the newly naked skin. Fingertips. Fingernails. The side of the wand.

It was slow and sensual and silent. Draco’s cock was straining out of his briefs again before Harry even began to remove his trousers.

Finally, Harry lay Draco down on the mattress, wand nearby. Draco was embarrassingly glad for its presence. His was nearby as well, but he had far more confidence in Harry’s abilities in a dangerous situation. Harry was the war veteran. He was the potions brewer – even for Voldemort he hadn’t gone into battle. Thank the Standing Stones for that. It was why he’d only been in Azkaban for ten months, instead of ten years.

Harry began to explore Draco’s navel, and Draco sighed his pleasure. Then he heard a low, alarming growl from a tiger, and his heartbeat sped.

“Shhh…” Harry soothed. “Trust me. Trust my magic. You’re safe with me.”

Draco knew it was true, and he abandoned himself, again, to Harry’s mouth, hands, skin, lust, and cock.

As always, it was captivating, thrilling. Tonight’s lovemaking also had a dreamlike quality. Once Draco let go of his fear of the tigers, that they would break through, he felt like he was floating in the bubble of magic. He felt as though he’d been released from the earth, unmoored from reality. 

By the time Draco came, spurting fluid on Harry’s abs while sitting on his lover’s trunk-thick cock, he couldn’t have told Harry whether it was night or morning, whether they were alone or in front of a crowd of people, whether the tigers had broken through the bubble and were watching from inside.

Harry practically had to scoop Draco up into his arms from the mattress in order to Vanish the conjured thing.

They gathered their clothing and made to Apparate out. Draco saw Harry drop a sock on the ground and leave it behind, and couldn’t parse the silly, goofy grin that passed across his boyfriend’s face just before they Apparated back to the cottage on Skye. Again, he made a mental note to ask Harry about it later.

They finally used the hot tub, and Draco thought he had probably never been so relaxed in his life. 

They slept in a bedroom upstairs that looked out over the crazy landscape. When Draco woke, he sat in the window and stared out. How odd that he’d never even heard of the place before, and it was right here in the UK. 

When Harry woke up, Draco silently returned to the bed and deep throated his lover till Harry came, groaning and grabbing Draco’s hair – hard. Draco loved it. Harry didn’t usually allow himself to touch Draco with anything resembling harshness, and sometimes a bit of rough play was just the thing.

After Harry came, Draco decided it was time to replay the previous day’s experience in the Manor gardens, and he insisted that Harry simply kiss and hold him while Draco wanked and came in Harry’s embrace.

Breakfast was a leisurely affair, and they tried the hot tub again. Winky made a delicious lunch and Draco found himself hungry. He ate heartily and was amused by his own appetite. Harry certainly kept him active!

They made love once more, a slow, leisurely, delightful fuck that Harry stretched out as long as he could. Eventually, neither could hold back for another moment and they came simultaneously, while Draco lay underneath his boyfriend with his ankles on Harry’s shoulders.

Harry brought Draco home, kissed him at the doorway of the Manor, and did not move away while his lover walked inside.

Less than three minutes later, Draco was opening the door to Harry again, who had returned wanting to make plans for Wednesday night.

Harry was finally starting to remember to make plans for the next date before the current date was over. Draco was pleased indeed.

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	11. Fancy Dinners and Weddings

Summary: The Dark Lord is gone, Lucius is finally out of prison, and the Malfoy name is in the toilet. But Lucius knows just how to redeem it...  
Warnings: Dominance/submission games, Lucius!bashing, manipulative!Draco, future mpreg implied.  
Pairing: Harry/Draco  
Genres: Romance, Fluff, Smut, Angst.

An Author’s note: People have asked about the “sock thing”. Harry gives his explanation in this chapter but the idea came from Rituals and Traditions by Amanuensis. [http://www.amanuensis1.com/ritualsandtraditions.html]. Trust me on this: if you haven’t yet read it, you want to.

Disclaimer: They aren't mine, they belong to the clever Scottish lady. I just bend them and love them. Please don't smack me for playing. It isn't like I am going to earn any money from this!

Beta by and .

Chapter 11

 

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Draco spent the two days after his birthday in a bit of a daze. The whole day had been extraordinary. He’d never had a birthday like it before, and in fact, he couldn’t imagine ever having another like it. But really, that was all right.

He spent long days with his new music player, exercising, meditating and walking in the Manor gardens.

His mind returned over and over to his birthday. He quickly decided that the best game to play with the memories was choosing his favorite part of the day. Eventually, he cheated. His favorite part was actually from the next day, when Harry had explained over lunch that he had wanted to fuck Draco at the Zoo, in part, because Draco had seemed a bit sad not to have been Harry’s “first sexual anything.”

Not only had Harry never engineered anything at all like the tiger enclosure sex before, he’d never had sex in front of Komodo Dragons before, or used Parseltongue to intensify a sexual experience.

Draco knew it was silly, but he was so pleased. Not only to have been Harry’s first at something, or three things, really, but also for Harry to have been even more thoughtful than Draco had realized.

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Draco was in the gazebo doing wandless levitation, wearing his new music player and listening to a wonderful band from whom he wanted to hear more, when his father arrived.

Wrapped up in “Norwegian Wood” as he was, Draco almost let his father’s arrival startle him. But he caught a sudden movement out of the corner of one eye, and was delicately returning several planters and two stone benches to the ground when Lucius arrived at the gazebo to arrogantly await Draco’s full attention. 

Feeling cross about this interruption and what it almost certainly meant, Draco went as slowly as he thought he could get away with. He was childishly pleased when he saw his father’s impatience flare. It manifested in a subtle flick of his hair, but Draco caught it, and, letting his eyes linger slightly longer than necessary, allowed his father to suspect that he had. He was tired of being under Lucius’ thumb, and was looking forward to getting out. _Soon_ , he hoped. _Let it be soon._

Draco turned off his music, took the buds from his ears, and – with what for a Malfoy heir was barely concealed insolence – leaned over the railing of the gazebo, instead of walking to his father’s side. “Yes, Father? Did you wish to speak with me?” 

“Your… boyfriend.” Lucius did little to mask the distaste in his voice.

Draco nodded.

“When is he going to propose? It has been over three weeks already. It only took four days for your mother’s family to accept my proposal, and they were simply striving not to look desperate.” Draco watched Lucius allow himself a small sniff of contempt for his deceased in-laws.

“Father, this is not an ordinary arranged marriage. Harry was raised by Muggles. He has a different understanding. He isn’t going to propose until he fancies himself in love with me, and that takes longer than a few weeks. Particularly with our history.”

Lucius glared at a flower that Narcissa had chosen. Draco knew Father didn’t like peach roses, but Narcissa was grudgingly permitted jurisdiction over the gardens. It was one of very few things she was allowed control of. Draco wondered what Lucius was going to say next. When it came, he was appalled by Lucius’ response.

“Then I shall engineer some competition. Would he react more favourably to a man or a woman seeking your attention?”

“Father! Don’t you dare try that. I assure you, it will backfire.” Feeling some concern, Draco stepped out of the gazebo and went to stand next to his father. Draco was aware this might have been a goal of Lucius’ all along, but he did not care.

“Father, since you bring this up, I need to tell you that Harry has made it clear to me what the main obstacle is that prevents him asking for my hand.” Draco paused and Lucius waited, now the picture of indifference and self-control to anyone but Draco. Draco could see the tiny flickering eye movements and the way he was jiggling the head of his cane almost imperceptibly with his right thumb.

Draco felt he had waited long enough to maximize the impact of his next statement. “You are the primary obstacle.”

“What do you mean?” Lucius was trying to radiate disdain, but Draco could see his distress. The cane wiggling was getting more blatant.

Perhaps because he was repeating Harry’s words, Draco was far more blunt than usual. “He told me that he doesn’t like you, doesn’t trust you, doesn’t want you to be his father-in-law, and doesn’t want you around, helping to raise his children.”

Draco saw his father’s suspicion of his son’s actions blooming like a poisonous flower and moved quickly to prune it.

“I have tried to reassure him of your intentions to live in France and leave us alone, but he thinks you are lying to me, that you have fooled me.”

“Then we must have him over for dinner to reassure him that your mother and I will not interfere. I am glad he places all the blame on me. That shows how taken he is with you.”

Draco simply nodded. When his father stated the obvious it meant he was feeling more in command. One must be superior to condescend.

“When do you see him next?” Lucius seemed to be fully in control of his external appearance once more. Draco knew that manipulating those who did not trust him was nearly effortless for Lucius. He now surely felt that he was back in his element and would best Potter easily at this game. Draco could see the sense of superiority rising. He knew his father was assuming that the best part of all was that Harry would think he was the one who had won.

_And Harry will win, too, if I have anything to say about it._

“I leave for his home in…” Draco consulted his iPod. “Two hours. We will have dinner together, and he has asked me to spend the night.”

“Are you sure it is wise to permit him such access to your body? An hors d'oeuvre is one thing, but can we really expect him to marry you if there’s nothing left to collect? Your mother allowed me nothing until she relinquished the power to refuse.” A nasty glint appeared in Lucius’ eye.

Deeply annoyed at the implication that he was nothing but a fuck – with the mystery and newness nearly gone, as well – Draco stood tall and gave his father a look of cool disdain. “I would thank you to allow me to handle him in my own way. You’ve trained me well, now allow me to prove myself.” _I am in complete control. When he isn’t touching my skin._

Lucius swept Draco with an appraising look, then nodded once. “He is our best hope, my heir. Do not throw this chance away.” Lucius spun on his heel and left swiftly, not allowing Draco the opportunity to reply.

“That’s all right, Father.” Draco’s voice was barely audible, but he nonetheless spoke aloud, daring to chance listening and recording charms. “You can have the last word this time. There’s more conversation to come.”

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Two hours later, Draco arrived in Harry’s fireplace. He was exactly on time. It was a bit early for dinner, and Draco wondered what Harry might have planned.

As it turned out, Harry wasn’t home from work yet. Winky explained that this happened sometimes, and that Master Harry had asked her to have Draco wait in the library. Wondering if she would be his house-elf soon, Draco decided to engage her in conversation.

“What is that huge sack you’ve got there, Winky?”

“For Master Harry.” And then Winky seemed to glow with pride. “Winky buys in bulk for Master Harry. Winky most economical. Master Harry praise Winky much for money-saving skills.”

Curious, Draco peeked into the sack Winky was levitating toward the stairs: a voluminous bottle of a common painkilling potion, an enormous bundle of soap bars, the largest bottle of Mrs. Skower’s All-Purpose Magical Mess-Remover that Draco had ever seen. Suddenly the quantity of razors and toothbrushes in Harry’s bathroom made sense, and he laughed with gratitude to know the real story. He’d thought there was no reason to be jealous, but until now, he’d been unable to otherwise explain it. He turned to Winky and gave her a sincere, but solemn, smile. “Indeed, Winky, as Master Harry _should_ praise you. You are clearly a very fine house-elf to take such care with your master’s finances.”

Winky smiled widely and nodded once at Draco’s approval. Then she headed up the stairs with her purchases while Draco turned to enter Harry’s library.

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Steadfastly refusing to consider anything his father had said, Draco examined Harry’s books. Judging by what was worn and creased, Harry particularly enjoyed gardening books, wizarding memoirs, Shakespeare’s plays, and Muggle graphic novels. An interesting combination. Harry appeared to have no interest at all in horror, mysteries or detective novels. Perhaps he got enough of such subject matter at work. He did, however, enjoy some Muggle science fiction, and his copy of _The Lord of the Rings_ was a tattered wreck.

Draco was completely immersed in a graphic novel about a young Muggle Australian man’s coming out story when Harry arrived in the doorway and smiled goofily. Draco lifted his head and raised an eyebrow in question.

“I like coming home and finding you in my library.”

Draco chose to sidestep the obvious implications. As always, it would not do to bait. “I saw you have some lovely gardening books.”

Harry smiled again, this time with the gleam of a proud gardener in his eye. “We’ve hours of sunshine yet. Come see my garden?”

Draco put the novel down without another glance.

Harry was proud of his lilies, irises, and sweet peas. His clematis was perfectly trained up the garden’s back wall. Draco was charmed to see this side of Harry, and indulged in a moment of imagining Harry taking over the Manor gardens when their wedding sent Narcissa and Lucius packing off to France.

They lingered in the small but lovely garden for long minutes, then went in to eat dinner. Harry spoke of work. Draco avoided speaking about himself, and at first Harry did not seem to notice. Then Harry asked an uncomfortable question about Draco’s relationship with Lucius, and Draco saw fit to change the subject. He gave Harry a brief, superficial answer, then cocked his head and stroked his wine glass with a fingertip.

“Harry, there is something about Sunday night that has kept me wondering.”

“Yes, pet?”

“Did I see you leave behind a sock in the tiger pen?” Draco was quite sure Harry had. Indeed, Harry’s face lit up with mirth. Then he began to snort.

“Good Moses, Harry, this must be quite the story!”

“Draco, do you remember a Malfoy house-elf named Dobby?”

To say that Draco was surprised by this question was an understatement, and he allowed his face to show his confusion. “Er, yes? He was my Father’s servant, mostly. I think he died while I was at Hogwarts. I came home one summer, and Father’s primary servant was suddenly Blinker. No one ever mentioned anything about Dobby again. Really, it had quite slipped my mind. What has this to do with socks and tigers?”

Harry’s amusement was roiling now. “Nothing to do with tigers, everything to do with socks. The short of it is that Dobby didn’t die, I freed him with my sock.”

Draco’s mouth threatened to drop wide open. His eyes were round, he knew, and he kept his mouth closed but let his eyes remain wide. 

“Please, do tell me the whole story.”

Harry did, as they finished their wine, lingered over pudding, and watched Winky clear the table. Draco realized there was a great deal about their years at Hogwarts that he’d never known. 

“So, leaving a sock has become… something of a trademark when I do something particularly liberating or mischievous. I actually tried to leave one behind when I killed Tom, but I didn’t get a chance. Things were too crazy.”

Harry stood and stretched a hand out to Draco, who took it and stood, moving closer to Harry. Harry stepped to press himself into Draco’s side and put one warm hand around him, onto the small of Draco’s back, and put the other on the side of Draco’s head, in his hair. Then he leaned in and spoke quietly into Draco’s ear.

“I want to take you upstairs. I want to make love to you.”

In response, Draco simply turned, put his hands on Harry’s hips, and kissed his lover’s mouth. They undressed each other hastily as they went up the stairs.

“Lie on my bed, pet, face down.”

Draco obeyed.

To his surprise, Harry fetched a hairbrush. _A spanking? How unlike him! This could be fun!_

But instead, Harry sat on Draco’s arse and began to brush his lover’s hair. No one else had ever done this for him before. And his hair had never been this long before. He was shocked at the sensual pleasure it brought. He felt like a pampered pet, as well, and he loved both the physical and relational aspects of the experience. Unselfconsciously, he began to vocalize his bliss, and soon found himself moaning with every stroke of the brush.

Eventually, Harry seemed to decide that the brushing was complete. As Harry moved to place the brush on the bedside table, Draco spoke quietly. “Well, now we know if you want to hear me moan like a whore, all you have to do is brush my hair.”

Harry chuckled warmly, then climbed fully onto Draco’s arse again and pressed his hard cock into Draco’s cleft. Speaking softly into Draco’s ear, he replied, “I love hearing you moan like a whore for me, Draco.”

“I’m yours to command, Harry.”

“Mmmm. Well, you will be soon. _Incarcerous_.”

The ropes snaked from the posts and grabbed Draco’s wrists. He submitted to Harry’s magic with a groan of lust.

Harry urged Draco’s hips up and put a pillow underneath. He took a moment to tease Draco’s half-hard cock into a comfortable position, making Draco long fruitlessly for more. Then Harry settled in behind and breathed hot air at the rounded hills of Draco’s arse.

“Ohhhhh…” Draco said.

Then Harry parted Draco’s cheeks, and his tongue delved inwards. Draco’s moans became louder. When Harry’s tongue opened his hole and swirled within the first few millimetres there, Draco found himself attempting to bite the bed.

The thing about rimming, Draco had been known to ponder silently to himself during walks, or really at almost any time that Harry’s tongue wasn’t actually on his skin, was that it was such a tease. It was intense and marvelous unto itself, yet it was also such a prelude.

Draco was completely incoherent as Harry lovingly licked, sucked and explored his arse with his firm, warm tongue. This was not a moment when he had to worry about accidentally saying something he would later regret. Right now, he couldn’t form words. Yet, at the same time, he longed for Harry to fill him far more completely, thickly.

The tease went on and on. Harry licked Draco’s bollocks, drove his tongue into him, stroked Draco’s arse cheeks with his calloused fingers, and swirled that wicked tongue around and around, lighting a million tiny, potent nerve endings on fire.

Finally, Harry seemed to decide it was time. He pulled his face from Draco’s body and pulled Draco’s hips up. Still tied to the bed, Draco continued to rest his face and arms flat on the soft sheets.

He barely heard Harry whisper _Madidus_ , then felt his lover pressing the head of his thick, lubricated cock at his entrance.

Draco waited passively, impatiently, saying nothing.

Harry waited as well.

Finally, Draco cracked. “Did you want me to beg? Because I’ll start begging any second now, whether or not that’s what you were aiming for!”

“Mmmm… yes. Beg me to ream you, Draco.”

“Oh fuck,” Draco panted. “I love the way you say my name!”

In response Harry simply pushed harder at Draco’s entrance without actually breaching it. “Draco,” he said. “Draco. Draco.”

Draco was lost. “Fuck me! Please! I’m begging now. Fuck me, Harry. Fuck me hard. Deep! Shove your OHHHH!” Draco trailed off into sounds of pleasure as Harry finally acquiesced. 

Harry was so huge that it always felt very imposing and intense when he put his cock inside Draco. But tonight Harry was clearly in the mood to tease. He eased himself slowly into Draco’s body, and when he was finally fully within, he lingered there, reaching around to teasingly stroke the very tip of Draco’s hard cock.

Draco panted and tried to squirm.

“Don’t be impatient, lover, we have all night.”

Draco’s only possible response was to moan with frustration.

Finally, Harry pulled out, almost all the way, and then began a long, slow, tempt of a trip back inwards. His pace was slow, and not completely rhythmic. He would jerk occasionally, or speed up and then slow down. And he never stopped touching the very head of Draco’s cock. Draco began to wish he weren’t tied down, for he wanted to push Harry down on his back, jump on his cock, and ride him like a thoroughbred racer until they were both dripping with sweat and come and ready to fall asleep in each other’s arms.

But he _was_ tied down, he _was_ at Harry’s command, and apparently, keeping him on edge and desperate was exactly Harry’s intention. Draco did what little he could. He squeezed Harry’s cock with his arsehole, and Harry moaned with the power of the sensation. He squirmed and moved to fuck himself back onto his lover, and Harry encouraged him with the hand that rested caressingly on Draco’s hip. He moaned and whined and panted and begged and bit the bed a few more times for good measure, but Harry simply wasn’t interested in bringing either of them to orgasm yet.

After long, torturous minutes of this tantalization, Draco realized he was crying “need to come, need to come” repeatedly into the mattress.

Drenched with sweat and shuddering with need himself, Harry sped up and let his rhythm shift into something Draco knew would bring Harry off quickly. Harry let go of Draco’s cock, and the ropes let go suddenly. Draco wanted desperately to reach underneath his own body and fist his own cock to orgasm while Harry was still inside him, but his arms and shoulders were simply too fatigued. So he met Harry’s pace as best he could in his current position and trusted that Harry would bring him off after he used Draco’s tight hole for his own needs.

Soon Draco could feel Harry spurting into his body, and he cried out with the pleasure of being the instrument of Harry’s physical fulfillment.

 _So good… feels so fucking good…_ Draco thought with sated happiness, despite his own cock’s neglected state.

When Harry had come, he pulled out of his lover and flipped Draco gently onto his back. Then he took Draco’s cock lovingly, lasciviously, sexily into his own mouth, and then into his throat. Draco came almost immediately. The tease had simply gone on too long for any other response.

As they were drifting into sleep, Draco muttered a question to Harry. “You used to use lube and spit, what’s this new spell?”

Harry chuckled sleepily. “We keep fucking away from my bed, baby. I’d never needed a lubrication spell before you. But when I was planning for your birthday I knew I would need something a little better than spit, so I went searching for a good magical solution.”

“Harry, you do the sweetest things for me.”

“Only for you, Draco. All for you.”

As usual, they slept curled tightly around one another all night.

This time, Draco Flooed home in the morning just before Harry left the house for work.

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On Friday night after work, Harry went home only long enough to tidy himself up and change into different clothes. Then he Apparated to the Manor to have dinner with the Malfoy family.

Draco met him in the drawing room, where the house-elf had left Harry to wait. When Draco entered the room, Harry was standing directly in front of the window, looking out toward the gazebo and the bowers of peach roses.

Draco paused in the doorway to simply gaze at Harry’s back. Harry had worn Muggle style clothing again, and his shoulders looked very broad. It was funny how the two of them were exactly the same height, but otherwise so physically different. Where he was fair, Harry was dark; where he was slim and light, Harry was muscular and strong.

Harry turned from the window and saw Draco standing there, looking at him. A huge grin broke out on his face. “What are you thinking about, baby?”

Draco walked toward Harry, who met him halfway across the room. “I was thinking what a beautiful couple we make, with our similarities and differences.”

Harry’s smile became a bit predatory, and his hands found Draco’s waist. “I don’t know about me, but you certainly qualify as beautiful.” Harry bent his head to take Draco’s lips in a kiss. This Draco was happy to allow, but when Harry’s hands started to pull at his shirt, to untuck it from Draco’s trousers, Draco put a stop to it. He gently removed Harry’s hands and kissed him lovingly but with a closed mouth, then pulled his mouth away. Looking at Harry’s face and stroking Harry’s hair, he said, “Harry, dear, don’t let my father make you nervous.”

Harry’s face showed everything. A flash of annoyance, a flash of confusion, a flash of resignation. Then it relaxed into amusement. “Fuck, pet, how did you get to be so insightful?”

Draco simply smiled in response, neatened his shirt, and took Harry’s hand to bring him into the dining room.

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Dinner was delicious, and from the things Harry had said and the way he’d relaxed with her, Draco thought he was coming to the conclusion that Narcissa would make a good grandmother. Lucius, however, clearly angered Harry with everything he did. Draco was starting to get concerned. Then he had an idea.

“Harry, won’t you tell Mother about the Colchester Zoo? She’s never seen a Muggle zoo, and I’m sure she’ll be quite fascinated.”

Harry began to politely tell Narcissa about the zoo, but just before he started to describe the white tigers, an unmistakably feral glint came into his eye. All three Malfoys were more than talented enough to hide their understanding of Harry’s reaction from him, but it was instantly recognizable. Draco did not squirm as his lover unwittingly revealed to his parents that the two of them had fucked at the zoo, but it wasn’t as easy as he would have liked.

The story had the desired effect on Harry, however. He was clearly bolstered by the memories of astonishing sex and the old memories of stealing Dobby away from Lucius. Draco knew Harry had to be thinking of that sock, and wondering if he could find a polite way to weave a hint about it into the conversation. 

But it was over the after-dinner brandy that Harry truly bested Lucius.

“Oh, Lucius, I couldn’t possibly take your title away from you. I understand what a royal title must mean to a man like you. No, you shall be Lord Malfoy until you die….”

Draco could see Lucius’ annoyance from all the way across the room. He glanced at Harry and tried to see if Harry could see it as well. He still wasn’t sure, when Harry opened his mouth again.

“I’ve been thinking and thinking about this, and I just can’t see myself as Baron of Malfoy. Really, can you?”

Draco almost gawped at the implication. He knew his parents had both caught it as well, and made sure to look at neither of them. Harry had just come within a hair’s breadth of telling all three Malfoys that he’d been seriously contemplating – for some time now – asking for Draco’s hand.

“I think I would rather Draco have it, anyway,” Harry finished.

Draco looked at his father and saw that Lucius had now relaxed, all traces of annoyance gone. All three Malfoys could see the look on Harry’s face as he said those words and turned his head to smile at his lover. Harry was completely infatuated.

After brandy, Draco agreed to go home with Harry, but lingered behind briefly to say goodnight to his parents. After Harry disappeared through the Floo, Lucius gave Draco an amused, approving glance. 

“I should not have doubted you, son. He will ask you soon. It is written all over him.” Lucius paused. “Tell me, can he Occlude his mind at all? For he cannot Occlude his body language or facial expression in the slightest. Not to mention the things he says without realizing.” Lucius clearly did not expect an answer, and he walked away, tutting with contemptuous amusement, leaving Draco to kiss his mother’s cheek goodbye and Floo to Harry’s.

That night, Draco felt as though he somehow abandoned himself more completely to Harry than he ever had before. As he came all over Harry’s abs, one thought ricocheted through his mind, over and over. _Soon. Now I know it will be soon._

The next morning, Draco Flooed out, kissing Harry goodbye just before Harry was to head out for work.

Unbeknownst to Draco, however, Harry did not go to work. He instead Flooed directly to Gringotts Wizarding Bank.

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Pansy and Dean’s wedding was delightful. The bride was lovely, the groom was beaming, the officiant had a charming sense of humour. The reception was at least equally as nice as the ceremony. The Muggles and magical folk mingled comfortably, the salmon was marvelous, and after they ate, Harry and Draco danced and danced. 

At one point, Seamus – pointing out that as the groom’s ex-boyfriend he was absolutely unable to dance with the groom – tried to cut in on them and take Draco on a spin around the floor. 

“We four are the only shirt-lifters here, boys, and Blaise wants to sit and talk with friends, the dull pillock.” Seamus was in his element – slightly tipsy, flushed from dancing, flirtatious, cute and Irish as all hell. Harry refused to allow Draco out of his arms. He told Seamus, “You go dance with your own husband.” He seemed completely unconscious of the implications of his statement, but they left Draco feeling rather smug.

Draco was most amused; every time they turned around someone else was asking, “So, when will it be you two?” The first time it happened, Harry stammered out something hard to hear, and changed the subject to ask about the questioner’s children. But by the end of the evening Harry’s answer had become a mischievous smile and a simple, “We’ll see.” Once he even winked!

It was while Draco was in the loo that the evening took a real turning point. Draco only knew about the conversation because he’d been unable to resist the temptation of placing a listening charm on Harry before he walked out of the room. Draco stood silently in the stall, listening to a conversation he thought he might never forget.

Harry’s voice was quiet, as though he were taking care to make sure his voice did not carry. “I’m going to ask him to marry me, Hermione. I’ve decided.”

Draco’s heart jumped in his chest.

Hermione sounded sensible and no-nonsense, as she always seemed to. “It’s a big step, Harry. You’ve only been dating for a month. Why?”

“I have a hundred reasons, at least.” Harry sounded confident. “Remus was right about everything. I want to get married. I want to have children. I was lonely, and now I’m not. I want to come home to him every night. I want him in my bed every night.”

Draco leaned against the wall, eyes closed, his heart in his mouth. 

“And as annoying as it is to admit, every reason Lucius gave me was a good one, as well. Draco is helpful, smart, he’s just dead useful, really. I never want to talk to the Minister of Magic without Draco again!” Harry chuckled very softly, and hidden off in the loo, Draco smiled.

“Speaking of Lucius, I’m more than a little thrilled to get Draco out from underneath that arsehole’s thumb. I hate the way his father treats him, and when I marry him, Lucius will go to France, and Draco won’t have to kowtow to the old man anymore.”

Draco nodded in his solitude. He would be quite glad of that as well.

“And he’s the sexiest man alive, isn’t he? Well, perhaps not to you, Mrs. Enormous Red-Head!”

Draco glowed at Harry’s licentious praise as he heard Harry and Hermione laughing at the comparison between slight, blond Draco and tall, broad, red-haired Ron. They had nothing in common except being pure-bloods and male.

“Merlin, Hermione, the lust I feel for him is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. Every cell of my body craves him. I tell you, Hermione, I feel so possessive of him, of his body, that it gets a little frightening. When other men look at him, I want to break them, hurt them. We went dancing at a gay club in London, and I spent the entire time in a jealous fever. Really, I think it’s only years of Auror training that kept me from unleashing some wild magic and doing damage to the club.”

Harry paused, and Draco wondered fervently about his lover’s body language and facial expression.

“I think I need to get a ring on his finger before I break something or someone.”

“Do you love him, Harry?”

Draco held his breath.

“No, of course not.” Harry’s voice was easy and confident. Draco wanted to crumple to the floor. “But Draco makes me smile, he makes me laugh, he makes me happy. And I’m _quite_ sure I’ll never get bored in bed. 

"He’ll be a devoted partner, a good husband and a good father. He’s everything Remus said Severus was to him, everything Seamus said Blaise was to him, everything Dean said Pansy was to him. And none of them seemed to think love was important, so why should I?”

Draco vaguely heard Hermione respond, “It’s important, Harry,” as he went to remove the listening charm and magic away his pallor and threatening tears.

Then Draco locked his emotions in a vise and spent the rest of the evening making absolutely certain that Harry suspected nothing.

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They lingered and lingered. The reception was almost completely over before Harry seemed ready to leave. Draco wasn’t sure whether this was good or bad for his sanity. It was probably easier to pretend he was fine with other people around, but that didn’t make it easy. 

Finally, Harry put his arms around Draco from behind and whispered in his ear. “I have a surprise for you, pet. Are you ready to leave now?”

Draco simply nodded. Then he leaned his head back onto Harry’s shoulder, closing his eyes and choosing to do no more than wallow in Harry’s scent, his embrace.

Harry flicked his wand at the centerpiece nearest them, a lovely bunch of porcelain pansies. It glowed for a moment; Harry took Draco’s right hand into his own, and they reached for the Portkey together.

Draco recognized Ogygia immediately. It had been after midnight in London, but on Harry’s beautiful, romantic island in the Pacific, it was apparently afternoon.

Draco took a deep breath and closed his eyes, turning his face up to enjoy the warm sun on his face.

“Oh, Harry,” he said, still enjoying the sun. “This is a wonderful surprise. I’m glad to be back here. It’s so lovely.”

“Not as lovely as you.”

Harry’s voice came from further away than Draco would have expected. He opened his eyes and looked in front of his face, but he saw nothing but white sand and blue water. So he looked downwards. Harry was on one knee in front of him, holding a small, deep green box.

“Draco, my darling, will you marry me?”

Draco resisted the temptation to tell Harry that he’d overheard Harry’s conversation with Hermione. He forced himself not to ask Harry why, not to ask what Harry thought this meant, not to ask if Harry was in love with him. After all, he already knew the answers, didn’t he? Draco reminded himself that this was what he wanted, erased all traces of worry and apprehension from his otherwise genuine smile of joy, knelt, and threw himself into Harry’s arms crying, “Yes, oh yes.”

They made rough, furious love on the beach, and although Draco couldn’t keep himself from making them, he made sure that Harry never suspected the real reason for Draco’s choked cries.


	12. A Strange Look in His Eye

When they woke on Ogygia the next morning, Draco felt much improved. He was relaxed again, and the heartsick feeling was almost gone. So, Harry wasn’t in love with him. That was all right. He would soon have everything else. Love was… icing. He would be Harry’s only spouse, the only other parent to Harry’s legitimate children, the one who shared his name, his bed at night, and his breakfast table in the morning. He might not be the only one who shared Harry’s body, but perhaps it would be a few years before Harry began to seek sexual pleasure with other people, and by then – well, by then perhaps he would have found a way to live with sharing him. Draco sighed quietly and snuggled into Harry’s sleepy embrace. He might ask his mother how she dealt with the challenges of marriage _in manuum, Confarreatio_. He would have to think about it. 

_I suppose that now I know why we’ve never spoken of love, and why he calls me every pet name he can think of, even that sappy “baby,” but never calls me “love” like an ordinary person._

Harry nuzzled into Draco’s neck, and Draco could feel Harry’s morning stiffy poking him enticingly in the cleft of his arse. He wriggled a bit to encourage Harry into sleepy morning sex, but he couldn’t help but stretch out his left hand to admire his new ring. It was simple, slim, and masculine, platinum with identical channel set diamonds all the way around, the diamonds protected by their own innate strength and a top-notch jewelry-protection spell. Harry had explained that platinum was the metal least likely to corrode, and the spell wouldn’t have to be renewed for a decade, which had all seemed important to Harry, since Draco was going to continue with his potions work, but Harry didn’t want him to take the ring off. 

Draco had been charmed by Harry’s thoughtfulness, but knowing that platinum, diamonds, and top-quality spells were wildly expensive wasn’t the least of his pleasure in the ring.

Harry’s nuzzle turned into a toothy nip and Draco moaned quietly. 

“Do you like your ring, lover?”

“Mmm. Very much, Harry. But I like having you between my legs even more.”

“Maybe I should fuck you on your knees, so you can look at the one while you have the other, hmm?”

“You know I’ll take your big hard cock whenever and however I can get it, fiancé.”

“Good. Because it’s Sunday, and I plan to stay here all day and bugger you senseless.” 

“Fuck, Harry,” Draco moaned. “You say the sweetest things.”

Harry got on his knees, facing a bedpost, and Draco put lube on Harry from the pot that sat on the bedside table. He did this slowly, making Harry gasp and pout at having to wait. Draco had to work at not laughing when he saw Harry pout, and when Harry caught him at it and winked, it was even harder to stay intent on the lube. Draco focused himself by looking away from Harry’s face, and really, that meant looking at Harry’s magnificent cock, which made it easy not to laugh. Soon, that fat thing would be inside him. And soon after that, they would be wed, and Draco would be able to have it inside him once or twice a day. That didn’t make him want to laugh at all, but it did give him reason to smile.

Finally, there was no more teasing to be done. Harry was hard as a rock, and Draco was so very eager. So he held onto the post and slid himself down onto Harry’s rigid cock, resting for a moment on his lover’s angled lap. His back was against Harry’s chest, his legs braced around Harry’s. Draco could indeed both get fucked and see his new ring like this, and he found seeing the diamonds sparkle increased his enjoyment in their love-making.

Using the bedpost to help himself move, Draco slid up and down on his fiancé’s thick penis. Harry’s hands were on his waist, guiding Draco’s movements as well. Draco could feel the tropical breeze on his skin, smell the salty air, feel Harry’s teeth and tongue on his shoulder blades and Harry’s hands holding him firmly as the men moved apart, then together again. He tossed his head back and began to speak. His voice was low, throaty, a bit strained, both from the position of his head and the distractions of his body joining with Harry’s.

“Fuck, Harry, you feel so good inside my body. I want to do this for a hundred years. I want to lie on my back underneath you and squeeze your cock inside me all day and night. I want you to tie me to this bed to wait until you’re ready for me, so I can be here, lubed up and gagging for it all day and night, a hole for you to fuck whenever you can get away to take me. I want you to fill me so full of your spunk that it comes out of my mouth.”

“Bloody hell, Draco… be quiet for a second before you make me come! I’d like to last a bit longer for you, but the way you talk… I could come from your words all by themselves.”

Draco braced his legs more firmly around Harry’s and grabbed the bedpost more tightly for better leverage. He fucked himself onto Harry’s cock, faster, harder. His thighs would tire quickly this way, but he didn’t care.

“Then come in me, fiancé. Fuck me, use me… I want it. I need you!”

Draco slammed his arse into Harry’s thighs one last time, and when he went to lift himself up – wanting to pull away fast so he could slam down hard again – found he couldn’t, for Harry had grabbed him tight and was coming, groaning and moaning and panting and spurting, deep into Draco’s body.

Draco wanted desperately to grab his own cock and come, but he held back to allow Harry complete control.

Indeed, when Harry had finished shaking and shuddering and was able to guide Draco off his cock and down onto the bed, Harry took Draco’s cock into his mouth and slid three fingers into Draco’s arse. Draco came quickly, shattering into Harry’s hot, sucking mouth.

They fell asleep together in the sun and didn’t wake again for nearly an hour.

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When they did wake up, they were both very hungry. They walked together to Harry’s kitchen, Harry in boxers and Draco nude. Draco admired his ring almost constantly as he gathered the food. He’d insisted that Harry sit and be served. It wasn’t difficult to put together a simple breakfast. Winky had stocked the refrigerator and pantry while they’d been at Pansy and Dean’s wedding. There was fresh bread, fruit, hard-boiled eggs, pumpkin juice, and bagels with cream cheese.

Harry asked for juice and a bagel with cream cheese, and Draco felt terribly domestic as he prepared the simple food for his fiancé. He kissed Harry on the cheek as he placed the plate on the table. He turned to fetch his own food, but found Harry had reached for him. He sat on Harry’s lap for a moment, accepted a sip of juice and took a bite of the cream-cheese-laden bagel, then said “Harry, dear, please let me get my own breakfast? We both need to keep up our strength if you’re going to bugger me all day long.”

Harry let him stand with a playful slap to the arse, and Draco gathered eggs, fruit, and juice for himself. He briefly considered tea, but it was so warm on the island, and he was so very naked. 

“When do you want to set the date for the wedding, Harry?”

“Soon, I think. How quickly do you think we could get all the planning done? I’m sure a June wedding is out of the question; June’s half over. But what about July or August?”

Draco suppressed a small thrill. _So soon!_ “We might be able to manage August, lover. We have to give the guests time to plan for it, and then there’s a great deal of legal paperwork and magical preparation.”

Harry looked surprised. “First of all, what the hell sort of planning does a guest have to do?”

“Well, if we don’t give people at least a few weeks warning, they’ll almost certainly have something else on their calendar and not be able to attend. You know how many people take a big vacation in August. And most people buy new clothes for a big society wedding. Such things are often custom made. And really, darling…” Draco gave Harry his most adorable wink. “We want to give them plenty of time to pick out our presents!”

Harry laughed warmly. “You’re shameless. Fine, so that part’s explained. Now tell me about all this legal and magical stuff?”

“Well, fiancé –”

“You love calling me that, don’t you pet?” Harry interrupted.

Draco smiled and blushed a bit. “Yes, I confess I do. Anyway, _in manuum, Confarreatio_ takes a whole lot of groundwork to do properly. You may or may not recall how it works?”

Harry bit his bagel and gave a little nod, which Draco took to mean he should refresh Harry’s memory. “With this sort of marriage, I will need to be magically bound to sexual fidelity. Not every wedding officiant is capable of casting those spells, so we have to find someone whom you like, who is capable of doing that, and then give him or her a bit of time to prepare. I expect almost anyone would need to practice a bit before he’d be able to get it right in front of a crowd. 

“Also, when we marry, you’ll take ownership of everything that would ordinarily be mine. We’ll have to prepare legal paperwork to that effect. You’ll own the Manor, just about all the money, almost all of Father’s properties. Really, it will be such a pleasure to see you take it all away from him. He dotes on his wealth; it’s sickening. _In manuum, Confarreatio_ means that it’s all yours, except the house in France and one account for their retirement, so we’ll need to hire a good solicitor for you, someone Lucius has no dealings with.”

Harry listened quietly, chewing his bagel, saying nothing.

“I’ll take your name, of course, so you’ll need the solicitor to write up papers about the title. You’ll want it to be clear that when Father dies, you’ll be Harry Potter, Baron of Malfoy. Otherwise Father might be able to force you to take the title before he dies, or be able somehow to force you to take his name.” Draco laughed quietly. “I’m sure you don’t want to suddenly find yourself Harry Malfoy!

“And you’ll need the solicitor to write a good marriage contract as well, though I expect there’s a lot of legal precedent for most of it. I’ll be the one to bear all the children, of course, but you’ll want to make sure it’s a legal requirement, and the contract should make it clear that the number of children we have is your decision. And of course, I need to be properly legally and magically bound to fulfill your sexual needs and desires on demand.” 

Draco blushed and took a sip of his juice. “That part is my favorite.”

But Harry didn’t seem amused, pleased, or turned on. “Shit, Draco. What you describe sounds like it would force you to become something similar to a guest in your own home.”

Draco cocked his head and stared at a coconut palm for a moment. “Yes, I suppose it will. Chattel, in a way. But Harry, you mustn’t worry about it. I knew it all along, I’ve known it since before my father sent Lupin that letter. I’ve already agreed to it.”

Draco stood up and stuck his hand out to Harry. Harry took it and stood up. “Don’t think about it, Harry. It’s just… business.” Draco used his other hand to make a dismissive little wave.

“What our marriage will really be about…” and Draco stepped close and got between Harry and the table, “will be your hard cock, fucking me.”

Draco moved Harry’s plate back, sat on the table and spread his legs. He reached for Harry’s cock, slipped it out through the placket in his boxers, and stroked it. “Marrying you will mean making you happy the best way I know how, in all of the most,” he stroked Harry’s cock harder and Harry moaned, “delightful ways I know. Fuck me again, fiancé?”

They didn’t even pull Harry’s boxers down. Harry was hard, Draco was wet and ready, and Harry pressed inwards into him and fucked him, hard, until Draco was gasping and moaning and coming, and there was cream cheese and squashed passion fruit all over his back.

Draco tried not to acknowledge the uncertain looks that flitted across Harry’s face as they bathed together in the hot tub. Instead, he tried to fuck them right off Harry’s face. He seduced Harry into fucking him in the hot tub, on the sand, and in the bed. They napped in the sun for a few hours, then prepared to leave the island. It was far later in the day at home in England, and Harry needed to get organized and have a good night’s sleep before the workweek began.

Draco had thought the fleeting looks of uncertainty and discomfort were finally gone for good, but he saw Harry looking at him with an unreadable expression as he tidied the kitchen while Harry sat at the table. Harry had wanted to help tidy, but Draco had insisted on doing it all himself – not that there was much to do – because it gave him both the opportunity to show off his domesticity and the opportunity to bend over constantly and wave his bare arse in Harry’s direction.

Draco decided the kitchen was tidy enough now and it was surely time to wipe that damnable look off Harry’s face for good. So he half-turned toward Harry so that he was in profile for the other man. Draco ran his hands over his flat stomach and abdominals and then deliberately puffed out his belly.

“Will you want to get me pregnant right away, lover? I confess, seeing Hermione yesterday, already pregnant with her third child… I got a little envious. I can hardly wait to make you a daddy.” 

Harry’s grin could have lit up the island, and Draco was as happy to see that the unpleasant look was gone as he was to see Harry’s beautiful smile. He motioned for Draco to come sit on his lap, facing him. Harry was again wearing only boxers, and Draco took as much opportunity to squirm around provocatively in Harry’s lap as he thought he could get away with.

“Tell me how we get you pregnant, you adorable little flirt.”

Draco required a kiss before he would explain, and Harry granted it. They joined their mouths together lovingly, comfortably, erotically. _We fit so perfectly…_ Draco sighed to himself.

Then he began to explain. “Well fiancé, we’ll use a combination of spells and potions. I won’t need a womb; the pregnancies will just sit inside my abdominal cavity, in the amniotic sac. But I do need to transfigure my appendix into an ovary. I think you should do the wand waving for that. Then we need to force me to ovulate. That’s done with two potions, which I will brew. Once I’ve ovulated, which we’ll know from the twinge of discomfort, we have sex right away, or within a few hours at any rate. We’ll use Apparition magic to bring the egg and sperm together in the right place, and then I’ll take potions throughout the pregnancy to maintain our baby’s health and my own.” 

“And how do we get our baby out of you, lover?” Harry was stroking Draco’s stomach with the backs of the fingers of his right hand, and staring at the path they took. He seemed a bit mesmerized.

“Cesarean section.”

“They’re going to cut you open?!” 

“Well, yes darling, but that’s the only way for a man. We can get rid of the scar if that’s what’s worrying you. I promise to exercise and use dittany and do everything to get myself back in shape for you to want to fuck again.” Draco batted his eyes in his silly, charming way. “We’ll magic away the scar and the stretch marks. I want to be beautiful for you, baby. You deserve it.”

Harry seemed distracted and uncomfortable again, and Draco didn’t understand what he’d said that had ruined things. Harry stood without warning, almost dumping Draco off his lap, and together they prepared to Apparate away.

They arrived in Harry’s front hall, and Harry seemed distracted and flustered. Draco decided he should assume he wasn’t sleeping over. Before he left, however, he thought it would be prudent to ask Harry one more question.

“Harry, dear, I really need to go home and give Mother and Father our wonderful news. Should I give Mother leave to begin planning the wedding? I know she’ll be eager to start.”

Harry turned and looked at Draco as though he was surprised to see him still there. Draco had trouble swallowing the lump in his throat, but he was determined to pretend nothing was wrong. _It probably has nothing at all to do with me and us,_ he told himself firmly.

“Er, sure, Draco. That’s fine. She can find a good date and start working on a guest list. A specialist for all the recording and listening charms, a florist, a caterer, all that reception stuff. Oh, and colors and clothes for the ceremony… you and your parents can do all of that without me. I’ll find the lawyer myself, and the officiant, just like you suggested.”

“That sounds perfect, fiancé.” Draco stepped over to Harry, who still looked a million miles away, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He’d been hoping for something with tongue, but Harry didn’t turn his head and Draco didn’t want to push.

Draco was about to step into the fireplace when Harry called out, “Lover? Will you have dinner with me here on Tuesday night? And sleep over?”

It was with real relief that Draco replied “Of course, fiancé. I would love to.”

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As soon as Draco arrived at the Manor, he called for a house-elf and got his father’s location. Lucius was in the library. Draco went there immediately, not bothering to change out of the fancy clothing he’d worn to Pansy and Dean’s wedding the night before.

He entered the room and saw his father sitting in a comfortable chair by the fireplace. Despite the warm summer weather, Lucius was reading a French wizarding paper by a crackling, snapping fire. He hadn’t noticed Draco yet, and Draco took a moment to look closely at him. His father was fifty-eight now, almost middle-aged. He’d made such foolish mistakes, and paid so heavily for them from one perspective; yet, from another point of view, he had gotten off so easily. And here he was, Lucius Malfoy, Baron of Malfoy, about to be thoroughly supplanted by the man he’d handpicked to put him out to pasture. A man he’d hated since Hallowe’en 1981, when a fifteen-month-old Harry Potter, and Lily’s love, had turned the Dark Lord himself into a wisp of disembodied soul. 

Truly, one could say that Lucius Malfoy was a selfless man. He was willing to risk a true retirement, one that might last well over a hundred years (though reflecting on the strands of white that shone in his father’s hair, Draco wondered how much fifteen years in Azkaban had lopped off of his father’s life span), and all for the long-term glory and power of the Malfoy name. 

Of course, Lucius believed he would be controlling Harry from France, from behind the scenes, pulling strings and wielding influence through his obedient son for as long as he wished. But even that would be a half-life, and Lucius surely knew it. But the importance of their reputation was greater to Lucius than his own life, happiness, or personal place in history. Or those of his only child, when it came right down to it.

Not that Draco had any illusions about Lucius going off to France to live in poverty and isolation.

Draco knew his father had almost certainly had plenty of affairs. He paused to wonder if they would increase dramatically when his parents found themselves effectively exiled from the Manor and British wizarding politics. Or perhaps instead of sticking his nose into politics or his cock into lots of pretty young things, Lucius would choose a different hobby. _I really don’t think I care what he does with his time,_ Draco realized to his surprise. _As long as Harry and I can keep him out of our hair._

Draco made a tiny noise and Lucius looked up. His face was blank at first, the face of a man who’d been engrossed in his reading. Then he saw that it was his son who’d been wanting his attention, and he suddenly gained a look of polite interest. “Have you news for me, son?”

In response Draco simply held out the back of his left hand, moving it almost imperceptibly so that the diamonds would catch the firelight.

Lucius was on his feet and walking to his son without hesitation. “You’ve done it? You’ve secured his troth?”

“The token is right here on my hand, Father. The promise has been made; I have his permission to begin the planning immediately. As well, he wishes to be married soon. Mother and I shall set a date in August.”

“It took you long enough!” Lucius bellowed, but there was no hiding the enormous grin on his face. 

_By the Standing Stones, I think he is actually **teasing** me!_ Draco mused in surprise.

Draco endured a few minutes of gloating and congratulations from his father before he politely excused himself to find his mother and begin planning the parts of the wedding that Harry had asked them to take care of.

That evening he skipped his T’ai Chi, but slept very well anyway.

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Draco spent Monday morning with his mother, planning the wedding. Narcissa agreed that they couldn’t hold the wedding any earlier than August, but she thought that they could probably hold it on the first Saturday of the month. They owled a long list of potential professionals about flowers, food and the like, and then Draco realized he was rather desperate for a break from his mother’s company. 

Words that he had panted into Harry’s ear weeks before suddenly came to him, and he decided it was high time he visited Harry at work. Perhaps they could have sex, then go out to lunch. His own tantalizing words echoed in his mind as he Apparated into his bedroom to carefully prepare himself before dressing to entice.

 _"I want to visit you at work some time.”_ They had been in Beth’s shop; Harry had tickled him, undressed him, pressed into and within him. He’d been compressed between his lover and the wall, panting seductive words into Harry’s ear.

 _"I want to walk in the door and drop underneath your desk. Not say a word, just undo your zip and suck your gorgeous cock into my throat.”_ Harry was amazing at times like that, strong, commanding, and so eager for Draco.

 _"Or have you bend me over your desk, not even undo my robes, just throw them over my head and shove your cock into my tight, eager hole."_ Draco lay on his bed, and carefully put a Celibacy Charm on himself as he lay there remembering how his words had convinced Harry to fuck him harder, faster, how he’d talked his lover into coming inside him sooner, faster, now.

 _"I'll come all lubed and prepared for you already, and you won't have to say anything. It will all be about you, your cock, your needs."_ He didn’t want to loosen his arse, he wanted to be as tight as possible, so he barely put the tip of his wand into himself, and whispered " _Madidus_.” He felt the charm work, slicking him all the way up.

He chose clothing that wouldn’t look out of place at the Ministry, but his summer robes matched his eyes perfectly; the sleeves were a bit on the short side, showing off the pretty curves of his biceps and triceps, and he wore nothing underneath except matte black leather boots that laced up his calves.

Prepared to pretend, if necessary, that he was there simply to discuss the merits of August sixth versus August thirteenth, Draco Apparated to the Ministry and went looking for the door to Harry’s office. 

He tried to Apparate to the Auror department, but instead found himself on a short line for the reception desk. _Good wards,_ he mused. Once his wand had been checked and his apparently obligatory nametag had been put on ( _Draco Malfoy – visit fiancé_ ), Draco began looking for Harry. Everywhere he went, he ran into someone he knew, and everyone read his name tag. He shook so many hands and received so many congratulatory hugs and pats on the back, he completely lost count of them. It took forever to finally get to Harry’s office door, and by the time he arrived, he was in a perfectly stellar mood. It seemed the entire wizarding world was cheerful for them, caught up in their romance, and most of all, tickled and delighted to see their Harry happy. _My manipulation of the Daily Prophet has certainly paid off!_ he thought smugly.

He knocked on Harry’s door already feeling victorious, and was thoroughly gratified to see the look of embarrassed anticipatory hope and pleasure that flushed his lover’s face when the door swung open and their eyes met. Until that moment he had been uncertain exactly how this would unfold, but the look on his fiancé’s face told him what he needed to know, and he closed, Silenced and locked the door behind him quietly with his wand, without a word or a backward glance.

Harry turned away from his desk slightly as Draco approached him, and Draco took immediate advantage of the extra space, dropping gracefully to his knees and surreptitiously removing the Celibacy Charm he’d been so grateful for during all those hugs in the hallways. He looked into Harry’s eyes, letting the love he felt for this wonderful man shine through, then changed his look of love to a goofy, lascivious wink. He undid Harry’s belt, unzipped his trousers, slipped Harry’s hardening cock out of his briefs, and made sure the briefs wouldn’t bother Harry by cupping his bollocks in his left hand, making an effective barrier between the elastic and Harry’s skin.

He couldn’t resist a little kiss to the head of Harry’s beautiful cock, now fully hard from these slight touches and all the anticipation. Then, sitting on the floor and looking up toward Harry’s flushed and eager face, Draco took the head of Harry’s cock into his mouth and pretended he wished to slowly explore it anew. But when Harry panted in what sounded like desperation and put a hand into Draco’s hair, Draco switched over to a different method and a different speed. He worked to get Harry’s cock into his throat, which required him to break eye contact and get back on his knees. Since he couldn’t easily look Harry in the eye anymore, he closed his eyes and simply enjoyed fucking Harry’s cock with his mouth and throat.

He could tell Harry was getting close, when Harry suddenly took charge. He gently pulled Draco off his cock, pulled Draco to standing, and kissed him deeply. 

“I think there was something else you mentioned that day in the changing room, wasn’t there? Did you remember that as well, my beauty?”

Draco nodded eagerly, too turned on to be coy.

The desk was a bit messy, and Harry considered the parchments and other detritus there for a moment, then shrugged slightly and tossed it all to the floor with a sweep of his arm. Then he pressed Draco backwards, forcing Draco’s arse to press against the edge of the high, heavy desktop. With one hand fisting in the back of Draco’s voluminous ankle-length robes, Harry kissed Draco and began pulling at the fabric with his other hand. Together they pulled the robes up, until Harry could feel that Draco wore nothing underneath them, save footwear.

When Harry got hold of Draco's frantic cock, both men moaned quietly.

Harry spoke first. “If I don’t fuck you right this second, I may just die.”

Draco turned around, flipped his robes up, bent face down over the desk and stuck his arse out in what he hoped was an enticing manner. Harry seemed to find it so, for not a moment later there was a thick cock pressing into his body, hands on his hips, and zipper teeth pressing into his skin.

Draco held onto the desktop with some strength, and Harry seemed to appreciate it, fucking into him harder and harder as he realized that Draco wasn’t being hurt or overpowered.

Again, Harry seemed to be close to orgasm when he pulled out and pulled Draco up off the desk.

“Want to…” he panted deeply and took a sharp breath, then started again. “Want to look into your eyes when I come, baby.”

Draco lay down on Harry’s desk and threw his booted ankles over Harry’s shoulders, eager for this as well.

“Touch yourself, Draco, I want you to come for me. I want to watch you come for me.”

Draco took his cock in one hand and grabbed the edge of the desk with the other, not wanting to be shoved down the desk.

Despite the discomfort of the hard wood under Draco’s back, it didn’t take long before they were both coming, Draco's come getting all over his own abs and a bit on his handsome robes. All of Harry’s come went deep into Draco, though Draco knew he’d have it dripping down his thighs soon if he didn’t do something about it before he stood up. He didn’t care.

Longing for a kiss, Draco nonetheless let Harry help him up without grabbing him and demanding one. This was Harry’s fantasy, Harry’s little treat at the office. He wouldn’t push to get his own way.

He couldn’t resist a coquettish look into Harry’s eyes, however, when he felt a drip of warmth leave his arse. He hoped Harry would ask what it was about. He hoped Harry would invite him out to lunch.

But Harry got that horrible, mysterious look in his eyes again. And it wasn’t long before Draco found himself on the wrong side of the door, wondering what the hell had just happened.

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Draco spent the rest of Monday and all of Tuesday until dinner determined to fix whatever the hell the problem was. Cold feet? Fears about Lucius? Fears about parenthood? The Death Eater thing? Marrying an ex-convict? He would reassure Harry whatever it was. They would get through this, whatever the fuck it might be, and they would get through it together. Ignoring the problem had clearly been the wrong approach.

Four hours before he was due at Harry’s house for their Tuesday night dinner date, Draco abandoned his wandless levitation exercises. He didn’t even realize he’d forgotten to lower a huge stone planter until his lack of attention and proximity caused it to crash loudly into something else. Cursing with annoyance, Draco returned to the gazebo just long enough to _Reparo_ the thing.

He walked to his rooms, started a bath running, and undressed methodically. Naked, holding his wand, he entered the bathroom and examined himself very carefully in his enormous mirrors. He frowned. He could see no flaws, no freckles from all that Ogygia sun, no scars to mar his skin, no overlarge pores, no stray hairs, or moles or anything at all to make Harry so strange and cold. 

Nonetheless, he spent two and a half hours in the bathroom. He exfoliated everything. Took a mud bath. On a whim, he depilated his entire groin. He left the hair on his legs and under his arms, but his cock, arse and bollocks were smooth and hairless now. _See Harry resist **that**!_ he thought with some triumph. Then he took another mud bath for good measure. Some might consider all that moisture overkill in such a humid climate, but he didn’t care. He wanted to feel like silk. He wanted Harry to have trouble leaving bed in the morning to take a fucking _piss_ , forget leave for work.

When Draco was finally satisfied that he couldn’t get any cleaner or softer, he took his wand to his hair. It had grown rather long, and now it needed a trim to neaten it up. After an intense deep conditioning, of course.

When he was finally done perfecting his hair and naked body, Draco set about choosing his outfit. He abandoned option after option. Nothing was right until he finally hit on the perfect solution, and pulled on the exact same silk trousers and silver-blue cashmere jumper he’d worn the night Harry had come over with Lupin and Snape for that very first dinner. It had made a good impression then – let Harry remember it when Draco arrived.

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Draco arrived at Harry’s house quite deliberately fifteen minutes late. He intended to make an entrance. It was nothing like the entrance he’d intended.

He’d chosen to Apparate instead of Floo, and knocked on Harry’s front door feeling slightly smug. He was almost ready to take bets on how much dinner they would actually eat before Harry ripped Draco's clothes off and fucked him. But there was no one there to challenge, so Draco could only feel smug inside his own head.

Harry answered the door, and Draco suddenly found himself worried instead of smug. Harry looked terrible. He looked like someone had just delivered the news that his puppy had died. No, it was more like someone had deliberately murdered the puppy in as painful a way as possible. Harry looked anguished and lost.

“Harry!” Draco cried. “What on earth is the matter! Did something terrible happen at work? Is Remus all right? Is something wrong with Ron or Hermione? Darling, sit, talk to me! Tell me what happened! Tell me what’s wrong.”

Draco managed to guide Harry to the closest chair, called to Winky for tea, tried to stroke Harry’s hair and get an answer out of him so he would know what to do. But Harry simply turned to him with eyes full of sadness and something else. Something that struck Draco with a deep sense of unease. When the tea arrived, Harry refused to drink it, and Draco took a sip of it himself, wrapping both hands around the hot porcelain and yet still feeling quite unsettled. 

It took a long minute or two of sitting uncomfortably at Harry’s table, but finally Harry began to speak, and his words nearly tore the screams from Draco's throat. It was only years of training that kept Draco silent. Years of training, and the lack of touch. Draco knew that if Harry touched him, even to pat his hand, it would shatter his self-control, possibly without any chance of repair.

“I can’t… Draco, I’m sorry. This has to end. You can,” Harry’s breath hitched as though he were fighting tears. “You can keep the ring… baby.” Harry rushed out, leaving Draco alone in Harry’s dining room.

One thought alone entered Draco’s mind – “Mummy” – and it was that thought he concentrated on as he Apparated directly to his mother’s side. She was in her apartment, alone in her sitting room, and Lucius, thankfully, was nowhere to be seen. There was no one on earth Draco was less willing to talk to right now than his arrogant, demanding, unforgiving, emotionless father.

Through tears he did not care to hold back, Draco chokingly explained what had just happened.

“Son, why? Why did he break it off?”

“I don’t know, Mummy,” Draco was crying fiercely now.

“He didn’t tell you?”

“No. No, he didn’t. All he said was that he was sorry and that it had to end.”

“My precious little boy, you have to go talk to him.” Narcissa stroked Draco’s long hair, and he had a sudden desire to chop it all off, shave it to the skull. He’d grown it for Harry; it was only a reminder now.

“Mummy, how can I possibly talk to him?”

“Darling,” she chided very gently, “how can you possibly _not_?”

Draco snuffled pathetically into his mother’s lap for a few more minutes, milking her for sympathy and attention, and working to regain his composure – at least to the point where he could speak without his throat choking him into silence.

When he felt capable of the attempt, he dabbed away the tears, kissed the top of his mother’s head, and stepped into the Floo to confront Harry. 

He found Harry sitting in his library, staring at the wall, apparently just as devastated as Draco.

Draco cleared his throat and pulled himself up to his full height. Harry’s head swung and he looked dumbly, numbly into Draco's eyes. Draco tried to sound dignified, and thought he might have succeeded, at least enough for a conversation with a man in Harry’s state.

“By the Standing Stones, Harry, you will not treat me this way. You will tell me why you broke off our engagement, and if I have anything to say about it, you are going to fuck me goodbye before you finish the job of tearing my heart out.” 

Draco had not even bothered to contemplate why Harry might have broken their engagement three days after giving Draco a ring, but his answer was still a profound surprise. Harry sat in his chair, leaning forward, elbows on knees, and spoke more to Draco's throat than his eyes.

“I can’t… I can’t make you do this, Draco. I can’t bind you legally and magically to the point where you’ve given me every part of you and you have nothing left for yourself.”

Draco was so confused. He knelt in front of his lover and put his hands on Harry’s knees. “But, Harry, lover, I thought you loved it when I gave myself over to you!”

Harry took Draco's hands in his own and finally looked Draco in the eyes. “I do! I do. Fucking hell, yes, I love it. More than anything I’ve ever done with anyone.”

Suddenly Harry stood and began to pace. Draco sat on the floor and stared at him, feeling helpless and trying to listen hard enough to understand. 

Then Harry turned and looked deeply into Draco's eyes. Draco held his gaze and hoped for an answer he could deal with. He longed for a reason he could argue against – something he could fix.

“But Draco, the idea of you ceding control of yourself to me that way once, forever, and having that one choice last the rest of your life? Never having the chance to choose again? I love that you give yourself up to me every time, I love watching as you surrender a little bit of your will, trusting me to give you what you need.”

Harry stopped pacing and stood in front of his fireplace. Suddenly he pulled his wand out and waved it. Draco thought he recognized that Harry was closing it off. He’d never seen anyone Floo into Harry’s home uninvited in the entire time they had been dating, but apparently, Harry wanted to be certain that they would not be interrupted. Draco was glad of it.

“More than anything, I love knowing that your gamble paid off, that you loved making love with me, that you are more than satisfied by me, my cock, my touch. If you give that away at the wedding ceremony, if the magic that binds your will to mine takes that away… Draco I couldn’t stand it. I feel like… I feel like _in manuum, Confarreatio_ won’t marry you to me, I feel like it would kill you. I feel like I’m bringing you to slaughter, Draco, and I just can’t do this. I can’t destroy your will. I can’t kill the person I now know you to be. The very idea… it makes me want to vomit. So I can’t marry you Draco, because I… because I just can’t.”

Harry held onto his mantel and hung his head. Draco saw a tear fall from Harry’s eye to the floor.

“Oh, Harry, you precious, beautiful fool.” There were tears in Draco's eyes as well, and he let them spill onto his cheeks. This was so much better than anything he’d feared. This was so perfect. This was the best possible thing.

Harry had looked saddened to the point of despair, but at this, he looked deeply confused.

“What… what did you say?” Harry walked to Draco’s side, and pulled Draco up from the floor. 

Draco put his hands into Harry’s and squeezed.

“Harry, Harry, Harry. You broke off our engagement because you can’t marry me the way my father suggested we marry? Don’t you know there are other ways to marry? _In manuum, Confarreatio_ is… Harry, only the oldest, proudest, most conservative purebloods even _consider_ it anymore. That’s why finding someone to do all the spells was going to take so much time!

“Marry me the way Arthur married Molly. Marry me the way Hermione married Ron. For heaven’s sake, Harry, we went to a wedding the very day you asked me to marry you. Marry me the way Dean married Pansy.”

“But… will that be good enough for you? For your damn father? I thought it had to be _In manuum_ or nothing! I thought it was the only way you and your father would get what you wanted from me!”

Draco got angry. “Bloody hell, Harry! Forget my father! Fuck the bastard over a barrel! We’re sending Lucius to France, Harry. I told you, he won’t have anything to do with our marriage. He’s retiring. He’s nothing. Harry. He’s… he’s _Gramps_.”

Harry took Draco right there on the floor of the library, in front of the blessedly warded fireplace. In the morning he called in to work that he was taking a last-minute personal day, and they went to the jewelry store and purchased a duplicate to Draco's ring.

“Of course I should wear an engagement ring as well, lover, you shouldn’t be the only one to have pretty things if we’re going to be an egalitarian couple! And I think we should hyphenate, Draco. Don’t you think Malfoy-Potter sounds so perfectly British?”

Draco bestowed his very best smile upon Harry. "You're a wonderful fiancé, Mr. Potter. And you are going to be a wonderful husband." And Draco kissed him.

 

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Author’s note: if you are wondering what the heck I mean by “A specialist for all the recording and listening charms…” just think Muggle videotaping. This is just the way I posit that wizards preserve wedding memories for posterity. It’s also why Harry had no idea Draco put a listening charm on him at Pansy and Dean’s wedding. The place was already bristling with similar charms.


	13. Antlers and Lilies

Summary: The Dark Lord is gone, Lucius is finally out of prison, and the Malfoy name is in the toilet. But Lucius knows just how to redeem it...

Warnings: Dominance/submission games, Lucius!bashing, manipulative!Draco, future mpreg implied.  
Pairing: Harry/Draco  
Genres: Romance, Fluff, Smut, Angst.

Disclaimer: They aren't mine, they belong to the clever Scottish lady. I just bend them and love them. Please don't smack me for playing. It isn't like I am going to earn any money from this!

Beta by DrGaellon and 13_Moons.

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Chapter 13 

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Draco felt as though the next eight and a half weeks were the longest of his life. Harry worked a great deal of evening overtime and most weekends, making up for lost time and preparing for the long honeymoon they were planning.

Draco and his mother spent most of their time planning the ceremony and reception. He felt like he hardly saw Harry at all. One bright spot was Lucius’ trip to France to “prepare the villa” in Collioure. Father was gone for four blessed weeks, and Draco didn’t miss him for even a minute.

Although Draco was deeply grateful to his mother for forcing him to go back and talk to Harry, he still longed to be out from underneath her smothering affection and timid attempts at marriage advice. It wasn’t that he felt he needed no advice; he simply felt Lucius’ wife had to be the person in the world least qualified to give it. As the weeks progressed and the wedding planning slowly came to fruition, Draco finally thought of the person best qualified to advise him. He immediately sat at his desk and asked her to tea on an afternoon when he knew his mother would be out shopping with friends and getting her mother-of-the-groom dress robes fitted.

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“Molly, thank you so much for coming.”

“My dear boy, I can’t express how flattered I was that you would ask! Harry is a seventh son to me; he’s truly a member of the Weasley family. I’m honored dear, truly honored to come talk with you about him.”

Draco led Mrs. Weasley into the gardens, where the house-elves had set a lovely tea table.

“Molly, I know how important Harry is to you and Arthur, but that isn’t really the reason I asked you to come to tea today.” He pulled out her chair and she sat, adjusting her hat slightly. Draco smiled to see her formal summer robes and fancy hat. She probably didn’t get invited to a place like Malfoy Manor often, and it seemed she’d decided to go all out.

“Then why did you invite me, dear? I assumed you wanted advice on what to get Harry as a wedding present, or to talk about seating arrangements for my enormous brood, or something like that.” She smiled at her own self-deprecating humour.

“Actually, Molly, I wanted to talk with you about the **idea** of marriage. I couldn’t think of anyone whose marriage was more successful, and more the sort that Harry and I would want to emulate. In addition, I suspect our lives are going to be somewhat similar, you and I. You know Harry wants an ‘enormous brood’ for us, I assume?” Draco smiled warmly at Molly and poured her tea.

“That’s right…” Molly trailed off and stirred a touch of sugar into her tea. “Harry said you were going to bear all the children, and not take outside employment.” She put her spoon down and gave him a beaming smile. “You won’t regret it for a moment, Draco. Did you know I gave up a promising career in Charms Creation when Bill was born?”

Draco sipped his tea and shook his head “no.”

“Well, I did. And it had been a lot of fun. But I was perfectly content to give it up when I did, and I’ve never looked back. Many of my daughters-in-law have careers, and I don’t criticize or begrudge – or I try not to, anyway!” She laughed, and Draco couldn’t help but smile in response. “But I loved taking care of my children, and I’d make the same choices again in a heartbeat.

“But you said you wanted to talk about marriage… what did you want to know? I could surely start talking and not be done for hours, and come to find I hadn’t told you a single thing you were looking to know!”

“I suppose I just want… wisdom. What makes a marriage successful? Are there things I can do to assure that Harry and I will stay together and be happy?”

Molly beamed at him and patted his hand in the most motherly manner Draco thought he’d ever seen. Then she giggled.

“Oh, my dear, I have many thoughts on this topic. I hope you don’t regret asking me!”

“I’m sure I won’t, Molly.” Draco made sure his voice was warm, his face open. He was well aware that Molly might go on a bit longer than he would possibly prefer, but he was also painfully aware that she was the closest thing he had to a good role model for the next stages of his life. When he’d thought he and Harry would copy his parents’ marriage, he’d been content enough to go to his mother for advice. But the things he’d wanted to ask her – primarily how to share your husband without going mad or poisoning someone – were blessedly no longer relevant. Now, Draco found himself in the unexpected and wonderful position of needing to craft an equal marriage, a true marriage, with the man he adored. And the closer the wedding day came, the more he felt inadequate to the task.

Molly took another long sip of her tea, and then she put her hands on the table and clasped them. She looked Draco directly in the eyes, and she started to explain.

“You probably won’t be surprised to hear me say that the most important part of a healthy, nurturing marriage is communication. But you might be astonished at how easily good communication can fall by the wayside. A friend of mine once came to me, crying that his wife no longer loved him, was planning to take a new job and move away without him, and he loved her so much – he had no idea how he would live without her. I asked him one question, and I saved their marriage.”

“Good Moses, Molly! What on earth did you ask him?” 

“I asked him if _she_ knew how he felt. He looked at me as though I’d just opened the door to the rest of his life. No, he realized, she probably didn’t know. He’d not told her those things – not in years. He Flooed home and talked to her, she turned down the job offer and they were happy again. I know it sounds silly, but they were both intelligent people. They’d simply gotten caught up in a bad pattern, and forgotten to communicate. You’ll want to make sure that doesn’t happen to you. You have to tell him almost everything. 

“If you run into an old lover, you must tell him. You’ll tell yourself it was harmless, so why upset him? But think how he would feel if he heard it from a third party and hadn’t heard about it from you first?

“If you do something stupid with one of the children, you need to tell him. If you realize you’re longing for something you don’t have: more time to yourself, more time with him, a chance to learn to paint – anything – you need to tell him. You have to share your dreams, but also your failings, your indiscretions. And of course, you also share your triumphs, your wisest thoughts, and charming little stories about the children that he wouldn’t know about otherwise. If you don’t involve him in the parts of your life he isn’t present for, your relationship will suffer.”

Molly sipped her tea again and looked out at the roses and the gazebo. Draco imagined that she was gathering her thoughts and waited silently. After a long moment, she began speaking again.

“I think respect is probably the most important thing after communication. It can be hard to treat your spouse with respect in every interaction, but you must try. It is important to work to see his point of view as valid, even if you disagree with his opinion about something. It is important that you assume his intentions are good, that he loves you, that he… what is it, Draco?”

Draco gripped his teacup. “He doesn’t love me, Molly.”

Molly gaped at him. Draco felt his control slip slightly, and fought to regain it. He knew in his soul that he could be honest with Molly Weasley, but it still hurt to say the words out loud.

“Draco? How could you possibly think he doesn’t love you?”

“I heard him tell Hermione. I… it was a terrible thing to do, I suppose, but at Dean and Pansy’s wedding – the very night he asked me to marry him, actually – I surreptitiously listened in on a conversation he had with Hermione, and he told her. She asked him if he loved me and he said, and I quote, ‘No, of course not.’ It… was very hard to hear. It broke my heart a little.”

Molly got out of her chair and dragged it over next to Draco's chair before sitting in it again. She wrapped a soft arm around his shoulders and patted him comfortingly. She felt so different from Narcissa. Draco's mother was still incredibly beautiful, youthful, slender, always carefully coiffed and manicured, because that was what Lucius wanted. Molly was soft, bosomy, grandmotherly, relaxed, and kind. Narcissa was only ever truly relaxed when her husband was away and not expected to return for a few hours, at least.

Draco gave in and sagged against Molly. One small tear escaped his right eye before he could stop himself. 

“Draco. I was at Dean and Pansy’s wedding too, do you remember?” 

He nodded, feeling like a small child on his nanny’s knee, getting comforted after falling off his broom.

“Draco, Harry loves you. Harry is **in** love with you. Harry is **madly** in love with you, as a matter of fact. It couldn’t be more obvious without him getting a tattoo. Or a… a t-shirt!”

Draco couldn’t help but laugh a little bit at the image of Harry wearing a t-shirt with “I love Draco” written on it in bold letters.

“But Molly, you should have heard him. If I had a Pensieve out here, I’d let you hear him. He…”

Molly interrupted Draco firmly. “Draco, my dear, I frankly could care less what he said or how he said it. I know I just told you to respect him, but you also need to _know_ him. Harry is… Harry was raised by very unkind people. After James and Lily died, Harry spent ten years with no idea of what love was, never witnessing it or receiving it. I know Harry well, and I am quite certain that he is in love with you. No matter what he said to Hermione. Tell me this. What sort of marriage will you two have? Will it be like your parents’ marriage? _In manuum, Confarreatio_? Or did Harry tell you that he couldn’t do that to you?”

“He talked with you about it?”

“He did, a little. It was clear as day to me that he loves you, and that he couldn’t marry you that way _because_ he loves you. But I already knew he was in love with you, dear, because I could see it all over him – all over both of you, actually – at the wedding last month. He hardly let you out of his sight. Neither of you danced with anyone else all night. And I think the way he looked at you could have powered half the spells in the room, dear. Harry adores you. Harry loves you.”

She reached across the small table and took hold of her teacup, put it to her lips and grimaced slightly. “Cold. Pity.” She put the cup down and gave Draco a small squeeze around the shoulders, then relaxed her arm and gave him a bit more space. “Harry is a bit in awe of love, I expect. He’s been hearing well-meaning stories for years about the flawless, dazzling, fairy-tale love his parents had for each other. That’s probably a bit hard to try to live up to. Add to that the crazy history you two have from Hogwarts, and his terrible childhood role models… well, I expect those are the reasons Harry told Hermione he isn’t in love with you. 

“But Draco, Harry is a hopeless romantic at heart. Surely you’ve seen that? He wouldn’t have asked you to marry him if he weren’t in love with you. Perhaps he does not himself realize that he is in love with you. If he hasn’t told you that he is, well, then I expect he wasn’t just being reticent with Hermione, but is truly a bit befuddled within himself. But, Draco, he loves you. I could not be more certain. He loves you.” 

Molly patted Draco's hand and paused. “Now you simply have to decide what to do with that knowledge.”

Draco stared at the table for a moment, then looked her in the eye. “What do you mean, Molly?”

“You thought he didn’t love you, but you were willing, eager? Yes, clearly, you were desperately eager to marry him anyway. Now I’ve told you he is in love with you. First you have to decide whether or not you believe me, of course.” She gave him an amused smile.

“Molly, if I raise seven children to adulthood, will I be as astute as you are?” Draco's tone was only slightly wry.

“Far more, I expect.” She winked at him and he couldn’t help it. He giggled.

“Now that’s nice. I like seeing you a bit happier. At any rate, if you decide I’m all wet, then you know what to do – you ignore me. But if you decide I’m right, or that I might be right… you have to decide how to communicate about it with him. Personally, I recommend telling him out right that you love him and that you think he loves you back, and you want to know why he hasn’t told you so. But I can imagine that sounds a bit daunting.”

“A bit daunting? Molly, for Moses’ sake, I think I’d rather climb Mount Everest – like a Muggle!”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Draco. But I remember, a bit at least, what it is to be unsure of love, of the lover. Of course, Arthur and I have been married over forty years now. But I remember the uncertainty, the newness, the tantalizing fears. Did he love me? What did his every little word and action really mean? How should I respond? Yes. I have memories of early love. So I sympathize with your fears, your unwillingness to confront him head-on about this. You don’t want to scare him off. You want to get that ring on his finger before you go taking any big chances.”

Draco simply nodded.

“With all that in mind then, you still have to decide what to do, dear.” She rubbed his back a bit and then let go of him, taking up her wand and spelling her tea hot once more. “I’ll have to let you decide what you’ll do.”

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After that, Draco and Molly backed off their intense conversation and made light chitchat about wedding planning. Draco found himself rather amazed at Molly’s ability both to cut directly to the core of a difficult topic, and to stop pushing when it was time to let someone else ruminate and make their own choices. He hoped he would be as skilled a parent someday.

He offered her a heartfelt thank you and goodbye after a short walk through the gardens, then went up to his rooms to get ready for a day of exercising and thinking. He had a great deal to think about.

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In the end, Draco decided that he would make no dramatic moves before the wedding. Molly had been absolutely right. Draco was afraid. He was about to have, according to Molly, everything he’d wanted for years. If Molly was wrong, he was still about to have almost everything. He would do nothing that might ruin his chances of securing it.

If Harry was truly in love with Draco, but too confused or scared to know it or admit it, fine. More than fine, actually. For if Harry _was_ in love with him – unknowingly or any other way – then Draco had even more good fortune than he’d thought he had. More than he’d allowed himself to believe he would. Confronting Harry about it before the wedding would be a mistake. It could only jeopardize the situation.

If Molly was wrong, which Draco expected she was, that was acceptable as well. He was still going to marry Harry, and he had already decided he could live without Harry’s love, as long as he had everything else. He’d been prepared to have even less before Harry cancelled the plans for _in manuum, Confarreatio_. 

The idea that Draco might not have to live without Harry’s love, however, teased at the edges of his mind when he wasn’t sufficiently distracted or in control. He was particularly bedeviled by the idea when he was trying to fall asleep. He told himself firmly it was folly to contemplate it, but as he eased into dreams every night, the idea was there, tantalizing him with forbidden hopes.

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Although it had seemed like it would never actually happen, the day of the wedding somehow did finally arrive. Saturday, August thirteenth. A day Draco knew would surely be the strangest, most frightening, and most wonderful day he had yet to experience. He’d originally pressed for August sixth, but Harry had been scheduled to work that weekend, and Harry had also been eager to marry on the thirteenth, declaring it lucky.

Draco woke with the sunrise. Not yet 6am was far earlier than he had wished to wake, but he knew better than to try to get any more sleep. He was thrumming with tension and wouldn’t get another moment of rest until after the wedding.

The wedding. Despite the fact that Draco had been working deliberately toward this day for over two years, despite the fact that he’d been manipulating his father toward this moment since shortly before Lucius was released from Azkaban, and despite the fact that he and his mother had spent weeks planning nearly every detail of this day with an obsessiveness bordering on mania, it was hard to grasp the reality of what would happen today. Draco sat in his sitting room, looking out over the garden, drinking his coffee, and trying – yet again – to believe it.

How long had he been interested in Harry? When had he developed what he had told Harry – on their very first date – was “an enormous crush?” As he had admitted to Harry, it had been while they were at Hogwarts. Draco had been so young when the crush had started that he’d been completely unaware of what it was. But somehow, a petty, angry, youthful hatred had begun to change. Or perhaps it was more that as Draco slowly matured, he’d begun to better understand the roots of his feelings. For his youthful hatred had sprung from what he had slowly come to understand was a desire to be better than Harry, and an envy of Harry’s good qualities. Some time later, Draco had decided it wasn’t even so much a desire to be better than Harry, but a desire to be noticed by this boy that everyone noticed. And a year or two after that, Draco had realized the real truth behind why he had been angry that Harry dismissed him.

Indeed, the process of understanding his feelings had been quite slow, but he had been a lad of eleven when the process started. All through Hogwarts, he’d dealt with Harry’s reactions to him the only way he knew how: by pretending that Harry’s rejection of him was what he wanted, as well. Indeed, he’d encouraged that rejection, facilitated it, and even forced it. That way, Draco felt as though he were in charge. If Harry had obvious reasons to despise Draco – such as Draco's behavior toward him, his best friends and his favorite teacher – then Draco could convincingly tell himself that Harry’s hatred of him wasn’t real. That is, if Harry only knew “the real Draco,” he wouldn’t reject Draco at all, but instead would embrace him.

And, shock of all shocks, Draco had been right.

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When Harry arrived at the manor shortly after ten that morning, Draco knew immediately, for no fewer than two house-elves popped into his rooms to tell him so. Harry was over half an hour late, and Draco, in his nervousness and anxiety, had been terrorizing everyone.

They had agreed not to see one another in their wedding clothes before the ceremony, but Draco was such a wreck that he wasn’t too surprised when a firm knock sounded on his door and Harry’s voice called through seeking entrance.

 _Fuck tradition._ Draco decided, and he opened the door to see his fiancé and his mother.

Draco opened his mouth to speak, but Harry shushed him gently with a finger on Draco's lips, and then Harry enfolded him in his arms and spoke gently in his ear. “You are lucky mothers and house-elves can’t go on strike, pet. Everyone here is a mess, and apparently it can all be traced back to you. Are you being a princess again?”

Draco wanted to deny it, but really, he knew he didn’t have a chance. Harry clearly already knew the whole story. “I’m so tense and nervous, Harry. I can hardly believe people have been doing this for centuries. I’m ready to elope. Or jump off the roof.”

“Please don’t jump, pet. I’d miss you terribly.” Suddenly Harry broke into a predatory grin. “I have just the thing to help you relax, lover.” Harry turned to Narcissa, and his smile changed to something warm and apologetic. “Narcissa, would you mind terribly if Draco and I had a bit of privacy?”

Narcissa’s eyes twinkled and for a moment Draco was reminded – most disturbingly – of Dumbledore himself. But then his mother gave him a small kiss on the cheek and swept out, taking a house-elf and a florist with her, leaving Harry and Draco alone.

Harry pushed Draco down into a comfortable chair, warded the door with a wave of his hand, and knelt in front of Draco. Then, still silent, Harry began to open Draco's dress robes.

“Harry? Harry, what the fuck are you doing?” Draco's voice was annoyingly high and squeaky and he felt ludicrous.

“An apt question, lover.” Harry smiled up at Draco, looking calm and eager at the same time – quite odd, that, Draco reflected for a moment. “I’m going to help you relax, that’s all.”

“How were you planning to do that, Harry? And why are you opening my trousers?”

“I’m going to suck your cock, baby. And why the hell are you wearing dress robes over formal Muggle clothes, anyway? It’s August, for Merlin’s sake!”

Draco tried to answer as Harry pulled Draco’s already hardening cock out of his silk boxers. “It’s a very formal… wedding, Harry… we’re… dressing… both….”

Draco's explanation trailed off into nonsense and then nothing as Harry took Draco's cock into his mouth and mouthed the head, laved the underside, caught and stroked the first few inches firmly in the hollow of his cheek. Then Harry began pulling gently at Draco's hairless scrotum with one hand.

Draco put his hand into his fiancé’s black hair and for a brief, frightening instant, he fought down a desire to blurt out something particularly stupid, like, “I love you.” But then Harry sucked Draco's cock into his tight throat, and Draco lost all interest in forming coherent speech.

Draco expected Harry to work up a steady rhythm and bring him off quickly, but instead, Harry gripped the very base of Draco's cock in a firm circle, rather like a cock ring. Draco's head had fallen back and his eyes had closed, but he knew he wanted to see this, so he tipped his head to the side and opened one eye. Harry’s eyes were closed, and he looked most intent and serious as he worked himself up and down over Draco's erection. His head was moving back and forth in a beguiling pattern. One hand was slowing Draco down, while the other was caressing his bollocks and increasing Draco's pleasure. It looked so overwhelmingly erotic that Draco felt his orgasm leap closer at the sight.

It was when Harry opened his eyes and looked into Draco's eyes, however, that Draco released all control and came, panting and crying out, deep into Harry’s hot mouth. Draco could feel Harry swallow and swallow around the head and first few inches of his cock, and he stared into Harry’s smiling eyes as he came and Harry drank it down.

When the last of Draco’s shocks and tingles were over, Harry gently redressed him and then used the arms of the chair to pull himself to a standing crouch over Draco. Harry kissed Draco's temple and Draco tipped his head back so Harry could kiss his mouth. He wove a hand into Harry’s locks and held on, kissing his lover deeply, wanting to express gratitude for a blowjob he’d needed far more than he’d realized.

“Are you more relaxed now, baby?”

“Mmm-hmmm.” Draco lolled in the chair, his hand still in Harry’s hair; feeling more content than he had in days. “Are you sure you don’t want to elope, Harry? We could skip this crazy mess and ditch my parents, just get married down at the Ministry and go right to the honeymoon.” Draco gave Harry his laziest smile.

“While that is tempting, lover, I think that tomorrow you’d kill me in my sleep as my punishment. You’ve worked very hard to make today a big success. I refuse to be the one who lets you walk away from it.”

Draco sighed. “You’re right, I suppose. Still, you asked me a good question before.”

Harry gently pulled Draco's hand from his hair, kissed Draco's palm and sat in the other chair and smiled at Draco. “I did? What did I ask?”

“Why I was wearing so much clothing. It’s because I was going to take the robe off after the ceremony and just wear the Muggle clothes to the reception. But I think I’ll just wear the robe over the trousers and forget the shirt. No one will see it, and I will be much cooler. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Actually, Draco, I love the idea. No one but me will know that you aren’t wearing anything on your chest under your robe. It’s a sexy thought. Can I help you get the shirt off?”

Draco considered this. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know. Half ten? Eleven?”

“Harry, the guests are supposed to start arriving at eleven. It can’t be eleven.” He snapped his fingers and a house-elf appeared. “What time is it, Blinker?”

“It is now being quarter to eleven, sirs.”

“You’d better scoot out of here and get yourself ready, Potter. If you won’t elope with me, then we both need to be ready for the ceremony in thirty minutes.”

“All right, baby.” Harry’s smile was relaxed, satisfied, and amused. Draco kissed Harry one more time, a lingering kiss, no tongue, and pushed him gently out of the room. Then he sighed and removed his robes and shirt, wondering if his mother would come in while he was changing, and how she would react if she knew. They’d wasted two days on finding that stupid shirt.

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At eleven fifteen exactly, two hundred fourteen guests rose as Draco entered the large, sunny ballroom at Malfoy Manor and walked down the aisle between his mother and father. The weather was perfect: dry, sunny, twenty-four degrees. In recognition of this, every set of French doors was wide open to let in the breeze, which was gentle. Draco decided he’d have been miserable in the original version of his outfit.

He felt regal and composed as he walked slowly down the middle of the room. As he approached the platform where Pansy and Vince and Ambassador Melamed awaited him, and Ron and Hermione waited as well – though of course they were primarily there for Harry – he marveled at his own calm. _That blowjob really worked wonders_ , he reflected in serene amusement. He kissed his mother and hugged his father, leaving them standing in front of their seats in the front row, then ascended the two steps to await his groom.

As he turned and moved to the Ambassador’s left, situating himself just so under the bower of branches, blooming vines, antlers to represent James and lilies to represent Lily, Harry entered the room, walking between Remus Lupin and Molly Weasley. 

Even though his cock had been in Harry’s mouth fewer than forty minutes before, he still felt his breath stutter and his heart slam in his chest. In a matter of minutes, that man, that beautiful, powerful, wonderful man would be his. For the rest of their lives. Which could be well over a hundred fifty years. That was a really, really long time.

He pushed himself to breathe normally again and smiled, hoping his was the smile of a happy groom, not the smile of a sappy, lovestruck moron or a terror-struck coward. He couldn’t quite be sure without a mirror. But did it really matter? No one was looking at him. Every eye in the room, he was sure of it, was looking at Harry. Certainly his own eyes were pulled there, staring avidly at Harry’s face as though if he looked anywhere else something horrid would happen.

Harry looked happy, anxious, hesitant, and overwhelmed. And he was looking at everyone but Draco. What did that mean?

Harry walked Remus and Molly to their seats, kissed Molly’s cheek, hugged Remus warmly, and shook hands with Severus and Arthur. He hesitated a moment, then enfolded Severus in his arms for a bear hug. Snape looked a bit shocked for a moment, then he relaxed and hugged Harry back. A happy chuckle ran through the crowd.

Then Harry slowly made his way up to stand in his appointed spot, smiling apprehensively all the way. Smiling at Ron, at Hermione, at the ambassador, back at Remus… but never looking at Draco.

Ambassador Melamed launched into a short description of what marriage meant. How it was romance embodied and lived, day to day. How it was the most important building block of society. How it created stability, nurtured love, kept children safe. Harry held Draco's hands, but looked at his forehead. Draco swallowed and looked toward Harry’s eyes, which were still looking no further down than Draco's eyebrows. What the fuck was going on?

Ambassador Melamed was holding out the salt, and he and Harry each took a pinch of it, reached over and put it into the other man’s pocket, brushed their fingers against one another. Melamed was explaining that only once each grain of that salt had been separated, identified, and returned to the proper owner could their covenant of marriage be dissolved and broken.

Now Melamed was asking their guests to stand, and she was leading them in the community vow, their promise to support Harry and Draco's relationship, to be there for them as a couple, laugh with them, cry with them, and remind them of this meaningful day – should there come a reason to need a reminder. Through it all, Harry looked at their guests, so Draco tried to as well. But he kept turning his head to see where Harry’s eyes were.

They broke and ate bread together, symbolizing sustenance, home, and the simple things in life, without which we cannot live. Melamed explained it all with her beautiful words. Harry looked at the bread.

They poured and drank wine together, symbolizing happiness, relaxation, togetherness, sanctity. Draco saw guests dabbing tears as Melamed’s soft voice rang magically through the room. Harry looked at the wine.

They took their vows, promising to cherish, listen, respect, communicate, honor, be loving and effective parents, and yes, even to love each other – both exclusively and until parted by death. Draco’s voice broke a bit on the word love. He felt the tears threaten, and he reined them in. Harry looked down at their clasped hands. His voice was clear and steady. Draco wondered if Harry sounded a bit detached, or if that was Draco's imagination.

Ron and Pansy handed over the wedding bands and Melamed spelled them carefully to bracket the engagement rings. Now they both had a stripe of channel-set diamonds with a plain bar of platinum above and below. Draco stared at his newly remade ring and then at Harry’s. They were so lovely. He looked at Pansy and there were tears in her eyes. Vince was grinning at him. Harry was still looking at the rings.

Melamed was suddenly telling them to kiss, and Harry was leaning forward, Draco was stretching toward Harry, their lips met, their eyes were closed.

Then Melamed was introducing them to everyone, Harry and Draco Malfoy-Potter. Harry was grabbing his hand and pulling, and they were tripping together down the narrow steps leading away from the platform, and everyone was standing up again and crying and laughing and clapping. Someone had let a wheeling, spinning firework loose in the room, and he wondered if something was going to catch fire.

Harry pulled Draco into the room next to the ballroom. They’d planned a short interlude of privacy for themselves between the ceremony and the reception. An ancient tradition Mother had found in a book. Harry waved his hand at the door to ward it lightly and waved his hand at a Muggle box to begin a song.

Draco recognized The Beatles immediately. Harry was so thoughtful. He’d only mentioned his fondness for the band once or twice since the gift of the iPod, but Harry had clearly been paying attention. Harry took Draco into his arms and they began to sway to the music. Draco rested his face in Harry’s neck and rested his body against that of his new husband. Paul McCartney sang to them and Draco just listened for a moment.

_There were bells on the hill  
But I never heard them ringing  
No, I never heard them at all  
Till there was you_

“Harry?”

_There were birds in the sky  
But I never saw them winging_

“Mmm? What is it, husband?”

Draco shivered with the deliciousness of hearing it said aloud.

_And there was music, and there were wonderful roses  
They tell me, in sweet fragrant meadows of dawn and dew_

“You didn’t look at me once during the ceremony.” Astonished at his own daring, Draco nonetheless left his face in Harry’s shoulder. Harry remained silent for a moment, and Paul sang them another verse.

_There was love all around  
But I never heard it singing  
No, I never heard it at all  
Till there was you_

Finally, Harry answered him. “I was afraid to look at you, baby. I thought…” and he pulled his face from Draco's hair, tipped Draco's face toward his own, and finally looked him in the eye. “No, not ‘I thought.’ I knew. I knew if I looked into your eyes, I would start to cry. And I didn’t want to blubber like a girl through the whole wedding.”

Draco kissed him fiercely.

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After the song ended, they held each other for a long, quiet moment, then straightened their clothing slightly. Draco wore white summer robes, but Harry wore a Muggle tuxedo. He looked quite handsome in it.

They entered the ballroom, and the band immediately struck up a waltz. They danced together for a few moments, then Harry kissed Draco's hand and they both went to bring another partner onto the floor. As planned, Draco danced with his mother, and Harry with Arthur Weasley. Arthur looked positively giddy with delight to be so honored. It was sweet to see.

Narcissa then went off to dance with Lucius and Arthur brought Molly onto the floor, while Harry and Draco brought two more partners onto the floor, this time Pansy and Hermione. After ten minutes, everyone was on the floor, and Draco went to get himself a drink. Suddenly, he felt completely drained.

They went to every table during the meal and made sure to speak to every single guest. It was exhausting and they barely ate anything.

Draco felt a surge of white-hot jealousy when he saw Harry laughing with a red-haired woman on the far side of the room, but then Harry saw him standing alone and motioned him over to speak to Ginny and meet her boyfriend Dirk. Dirk stood between Harry and Ginny for a moment, and Draco could see the flashes of insecurity in Dirk’s eyes fade as Harry reached for Draco and wrapped an arm around him, kissed his cheek, stroked his arm. Draco felt his own eyes must be making a similar conversion.

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The reception lasted for hours. There were hors d'oeuvres, dancing, a large meal, more dancing…. The food was incredible and the band wonderful, but by the time Fred and George began the late afternoon fireworks display to officially end the reception, Draco felt nearly ready to fall over. He was tired, hungry, and thoroughly sick of smiling at more than two hundred other people. Even though he did care for all of them. “Harry, dear? Will you really be able to Apparate us to your cottage on Skye? I’m too exhausted even to Floo, I think!”

“I’m tired, too, baby, and my feet are killing me, but I think we can get there by Floo.” Harry winked at him.

The house-elves had brought their luggage to the cottage already, and the pantry had been readied. They would spend two days alone together in the cottage before heading off for their first exotic destination. Draco didn’t even know where they were going. The honeymoon had been all Harry’s responsibility, and he looked forward to lovely surprises. All Draco knew was that they would be gone for three full weeks. He was more than ready to leave, and to start the next phase of their lives together.

They Flooed to Skye, and Draco felt they were both lucky to get undressed before they fell into the bed together, and quickly fell fast asleep. Draco's last coherent thought was to hope they would have enough energy to have sex in the morning.

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	14. A Bubble for Two

Summary: The Dark Lord is gone, Lucius is finally out of prison, and the Malfoy name is in the toilet. But Lucius knows just how to redeem it...

Warnings: Dominance/submission games, Lucius!bashing, manipulative!Draco, future mpreg implied.  
Pairing: Harry/Draco  
Genres: Romance, Fluff, Smut, Angst.

Disclaimer: They aren't mine, they belong to the clever Scottish lady. I just bend them and love them. Please don't smack me for playing. It isn't like I am going to earn any money from this!

Beta by DrGaellon and 13_Moons.

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Draco woke slowly the morning after the wedding. The bedroom was dark, and he wondered what time it was. He was on his stomach, drooling a bit into the sheets, and he stretched his arms and legs out trying to find Harry. No Harry. Hmm. 

Then Draco realized he had an increasing need to piss. Sighing, he scraped himself out of bed and was pleased to note that his feet felt considerably better than they had the night before, after he’d danced for hours and hours at his own wedding.

Good fucking magical Moses, his own wedding. He was married now. Without intending to, he looked down at his left hand and indeed, diamonds and platinum still circled the ring finger there, winking slightly in the almost nonexistent light. Wait… there was a bit of light after all. It was coming from the… bathroom. The door wasn’t completely closed, and light was coming out in a slim streak. Harry must be in there.

Draco smiled, wondering what Harry was up to, and if he could coax him back to bed for some _married_ sex. They’d been married for hours now and hadn’t shagged as husbands even _once_! That was most unlike them.

Draco opened the bathroom door. The shower was running and the room was steamy and hot. Draco shut the door carefully, quickly relieved himself and flushed, wondering if it would heat the water in the shower when he did.

Apparently Harry’s plumbing was of good quality, for he didn’t seem to have noticed Draco yet, despite the flush. That wouldn’t do at all. Draco slipped into the shower behind Harry and snaked his left hand around, onto his husband’s flat, wet abs. Then he kissed the back of Harry’s neck as Harry wove the fingers of his left hand into Draco's hand. Their rings clicked and they both reacted: Draco with a smile, Harry with a little sigh.

Harry turned around and pressed Draco against the shower’s back wall. Harry was hard, and his cock pressed firmly into Draco's skin and pubic hair.

“How’d you get so hard, husband?” Draco whispered into Harry’s ear.

“Wanking. Thinking about you in our bed, legs spread wide, ass up, waiting for me….”

“That will not do!” Draco's tone was playful. “That cock is **mine** now, Potter, and –“

“That’s _Malfoy-Potter_ to you, Mr. Malfoy-Potter.”

“Because we’re married?”

Harry nodded, and Draco bit his earlobe gently, then whispered, “But I don’t _feel_ married yet, Harry. I think you’d best fix that. Don’t you?”

“Did you need something, then? You need something hard?” Harry grabbed his own cock and stroked it against Draco's stomach. Draco felt his own cock start to react, and he let his head fall back against the wall.

“Fuck me, Harry. Please… fuck me.”

“So impatient, my darling?”

Draco growled. “I think I’ve been incredibly patient, Harry. We’ve been married for absolutely hours and hours! How long do I have to wait before we consummate this?” Draco wrapped his hands around Harry’s hips and pulled Harry even closer. “Tell me I don’t have to wait any longer.” It wasn’t a question, and Harry didn’t bother to answer with words.

Pressing Draco into the back wall with his torso, Harry lifted Draco's right leg and put it on his own hip. Then he reached between Draco's legs to find his new husband’s sensitive little hole. Draco made sure Harry knew when he’d found it, with small moans and a slight thrash of the head.

“ _Madidus_. Careful, pet. It’s slippery in here. I don’t want you to fall.”

Draco opened his eyes and looked solemnly into Harry’s. “I trust you to catch me, lover.”

Harry blushed and grabbed hold of Draco's torso more tightly, shoved his cock in and hid his face in Draco's neck. Draco could feel Harry’s every move, as the hot water washed away some of the lube. He knew he might be a little sore later but right now he didn’t care. He was exactly where he belonged: helplessly speared on Harry’s fat, hard cock, his skin between Harry’s teeth and his body held in Harry’s arms.

Draco moaned breathily in Harry’s ear. “Can I put both legs up on your waist, husband?”

Harry didn’t answer out loud, but he hooked his hands firmly under Draco's upper thighs and eased Draco slightly more against the wall. Draco took this as a yes and eased the other leg off the shower floor, gripped Harry’s waist with his calves and Harry’s shoulders with his hands.

Draco held on tight as Harry moved slowly inside his arse and delicately nibbled at his neck and ear. They were both working hard to keep Draco from falling so no one’s hand was on Draco's cock, but the underside was rubbing continually against Harry’s washboard abs, and Harry was doing a brilliant job of hitting Draco's prostate on almost every stroke.

The hot water felt fabulous spilling over them, and Draco felt like he could stay where he was forever. He twined the fingers of his right hand into Harry’s wet locks and slowly stroked Harry’s scalp with his fingernails. Harry moaned and shifted slightly on the balls of his feet.

Worried that Harry might be getting tired, Draco decided to play with Harry’s abilities a bit and give Harry a nudge toward orgasm. Keeping his fingernails busy in Harry’s thick hair, and putting his head on Harry’s shoulder, Draco licked some of the hot water from his husband’s neck and deliberately pictured them in the tiger enclosure at the zoo. At the time he’d been reluctant to have sex on top of a stupefied tiger, but now he pictured clearly that very thing: himself kneeling over the soft, furry beast, the beautiful black and white animal underneath him completely unconscious, Harry on his knees behind Draco, driving into him over and over just as the real Harry was driving into him right now.

Draco knew the moment Harry picked up on what Draco was trying to send him, as he groaned into Draco's ear and picked up the pace. It wouldn’t be long before Harry came, but amazingly, Draco thought he might get there first. Especially since now Harry was hitting his prostate even more often, even harder, ever faster… “Oh! Oh! Harry!”

Draco's cock began to spurt come, washed away quickly by the shower. But Harry obviously felt Draco shake with pleasure, and as Draco was coming down from his high, Harry hit his own peak.

Draco was thrilled to hold on to Harry with his arms, legs, arse and eyes. He stared at Harry’s face, tense with pleasure, eyes closed and head thrown repeatedly backwards. Good Moses – Harry was hot! Draco decided to make sure to watch Harry’s face during orgasm far more often.

After they’d both come, Harry carefully helped Draco back onto his feet, and they washed each other’s backs, cuddled close, stroked each other’s skin.

Then they ate a light breakfast and soon afterward were back in bed. This time for a nap.

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They lazed around the cottage for a couple of days, sleeping a lot, rubbing each other’s feet, watching the telly. They had sex over and over. 

Draco found himself continually astonished at the very idea of being married, of being someone’s husband, of wearing his new ring – more than three times as wide as the engagement ring alone. He called Harry “husband” as often as he thought he could get away with it and began to worry that he would annoy Harry with his own innocent delight. But Harry seemed just as dazed, and was doing the same things. Draco caught Harry staring blankly at his own wedding band more times than he could count. Draco felt a bit silly when he did these things, but when Harry did it, he found it adorable.

What with all Harry’s overtime and weekends at work and Draco so busy with planning the wedding, they’d completely missed celebrating Harry’s thirty-first birthday. So Draco made certain Blinker brought a cake and candles, and they had a small celebration at the cottage on Sunday afternoon. Harry’s birthday present from Draco ended up being a walk in the drizzling rain and a blowjob. Draco vowed to himself that when Harry turned thirty-two he’d made a huge production out of it, a day just as special and over-the-top as Harry had made Draco's thirty-first.

To Draco's amusement, Harry insisted on totally repacking Draco's overnight bag for their honeymoon trip. Draco just kissed Harry on the head and left him to it. He still didn’t know where they were going after all, and apparently Harry wanted to keep it a surprise until the last moment.

But once they were finally ready to leave the cottage, Draco simply had to ask. They each had a small overnight bag; Harry insisted that would be all they would need. Draco did notice that although both bags were small, Harry’s was considerably larger. He chose not to comment on this.

They were sitting together in the kitchen finishing their cups of tea and waiting for one o’clock, when they would be Apparating somewhere. It was almost one when Draco finally broke.

“So where are we going, baby?”

“Couldn’t wait any longer, could you?”

Draco swatted gently at Harry’s hand, completely missing it. He gave Harry his most patient smile. “Come on already, husband. Tell me?”

“Well, that’s kind of a long answer. I really hope you’ll like what I have planned.” Harry was looking at the dregs of his Irish Breakfast.

“I’m certainly curious enough.”

Harry looked into Draco's face at last. “Well, you know how I like privacy.”

“Oh, certainly.” Draco waved a hand outwards to emphasize his understanding.

“And you know our wedding was big news all over the wizarding world.”

“Of course.”

“I was afraid that no matter where we went, we’d get bothered. And I just couldn’t stand the idea of people bugging us on our honeymoon.” Harry sighed.

“So are we spending our honeymoon at the manor then?” Draco was a bit confused.

“Oh honey, no! No, actually, I hadn’t even thought of that. No, I mean, the manor is that private, yes – except I’d worry about your parents.”

“True, they probably won’t be completely gone until just before we come back from the honeymoon. Ogygia then?”

“Well… almost.”

“Almost?”

“See, I went to a travel agent. I told her about how I needed the absolutely most private, undisturbed, impenetrable location in the whole world.”

Draco couldn’t stop speculating aloud. “We’re spending our honeymoon at Hogwarts?”

Harry laughed. “Good lord Draco, you’re quick! I should have talked to you about this before. No, not Hogwarts, though I suppose that would be pretty private. No, I wanted something we’d never done before, if possible.”

“I’m fresh out of ideas, lover. What did you and the travel agent come up with then?”

“Well, as it turns out, if you’re willing to spend the galleons, you can spend your honeymoon… underwater.”

“Under the… I don’t think I understand.” Draco wore a look of polite confusion, but internally he was frustrated. He just wanted to know where the hell they were going!

“Well, I’m not surprised you don’t understand.” Harry laughed at himself. “It took me a while to get it and the travel agent was much better at explaining it than I am. Let me try to start at the beginning.” 

Harry stood up and looked out the window for a moment. Then he turned and sat on the sill. Backlit gently by the heavily clouded Scottish sunlight, he tried again. “It’s like this. I’ll Apparate us and our luggage to the travel agent’s office. She has a portkey which will take us to a magical bubble under the ocean. The bubble is similar to the one that kept the tigers away when we were with them at the zoo, except it’s about a billion times stronger and a hell of a lot bigger. They use all manner of sophisticated magic to not only create the bubble just for us, but to randomize the location. You’d probably understand it; you were good at Arithmancy, weren’t you?”

Draco was astonished. He’d never heard of anything like this before. He nodded distractedly in response to Harry’s question.

“No one will know exactly where we are, not even the travel agent. Every guest gets their own, new bubble. They send all the food and everything we’ll need for the whole vacation down with us on the portkey, and we’ll be down there for two weeks. The reason for the huge expense is not only the magic and the privacy, but the legal permissions from all the different countries whose waters we might be in… because UnderWater Magic only knows they’re sending us somewhere warm and really scenic, you know? So the company has a huge number of permissions to secure.”

Draco was touched to see how uncertain and hopeful Harry looked. He was clearly worried that Draco wasn’t going to like this vacation idea. Draco gave him a broad warm smile of reassurance.

“So… umm. I hope you like the idea. It’s why I insisted on packing your bag, you see. I know you have mentioned how I forget to tell you how to dress for where we are going. I wasn’t sure how to explain this without giving it all away, and I wanted it to be a surprise… it, er, it sounds good to you, right? I mean, I hope?”

Draco was amazed. What a crazy idea! Truthfully, he wasn’t certain that spending two weeks in complete isolation with Harry _was_ a good idea, but he certainly wasn’t going to tell Harry that. Draco stood, stalked up to stand in front of Harry, tipped his husband’s head up, and gave him a saucy little wink. “You’re telling me we’re going to be alone, just you, me, the fish, and a big bed, for two lovely weeks?”

Harry stood and smiled, looking far more confident now that Draco seemed to like the idea. He put his hands on Draco's arms and gave an embarrassed but somewhat self-satisfied smile. “Not just us and the bed, pet. I also asked for a hot tub and a pool table.”

“Just see if you can get me out of that bed, husband,” Draco said, and then he licked a delicate stripe around the outermost curve of Harry’s ear.

Harry breathed in audibly and his hands tightened on Draco's arms. Then he stepped back quickly, looking flushed. “Let’s get to the agent’s office, pet, now.”

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The travel agent was impressively discreet. She behaved quite normally when Harry and Draco arrived with their two small bags. She pleasantly offered congratulations for their wedding and made not one other personal remark. Draco thought this must be the way she treated all newlyweds. Draco vowed to send more business her way. Almost no one treated Harry like any other ordinary wizard. 

Draco then amused himself by thinking how insulted he would have been to have been treated “like any other ordinary wizard” just a few years before. Things were different now. Now he was married to Harry. He looked at his ring again and smiled.

She sat them in her office and brought out a small package. It was rather gaudy, with the words “Your Spectacular Vacation with UnderWater Magic!” written quite large and dancing around in gold lettering on a turquoise background. She explained the magic of the bubble, the amenities Harry had paid for, the way the meals worked, the guarantee of complete privacy. Draco wondered how often people bought a package like this for a stretch as long as two weeks, but chose not to ask. He wouldn’t want to imply to Harry that he thought two weeks was too long to spend with him in the bubble. He hoped it wasn’t.

The agent also explained that guests on vacations of this nature – that is, with no clocks or contact with other people – tended to lose track of the days rather quickly. She strongly recommended they accept the company’s “wake-up call” – a charm that would alert them to the imminent ending of their vacation in twenty-four hours, then two hours, next one hour, and lastly in fifteen minutes. They accepted with relief. Harry clearly hadn’t given this issue a moment’s thought, and Draco had known about their plans so briefly he hadn’t had the opportunity to catalog things that might go wrong. Getting spat back into the travel agent’s office while in the middle of a shag – not to mention unpacked! – was definitely something he wanted to avoid.

Soon there was nothing left to arrange, agree to, refuse or explain. The agent told them they would need to pick up their luggage, then unwrap the portkey together. It was spelled to activate eight seconds after the first touch from a human hand. The agent warned them not to let go after the first touch. “Not even if you sneeze!”

Smiling, Draco picked up his bag in his left hand and watched Harry pick up his own bag in his right. They stood up, and pressed close to one another. With their free hands they began unwrapping the package. Inside was a bulbous, two-handled vase in gaudy gold and turquoise. They each took one handle firmly and Draco began to count to eight in his head. One of them had obviously touched it sooner than Draco had realized, for when he reached five, he felt that familiar sensation of a hook behind his navel, and they were off to their honeymoon under the ocean.

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At first Draco just wanted to explore their “room.” It had everything Harry had mentioned, plus a rather plush bathroom, a small sitting area with very comfortable chairs, a chess set, a wireless, a nice collection of books, and a dining area for two. The bookcase was filled with a rather impressive variety of Muggle and wizarding fiction, plus a small but lushly illustrated set of books identifying fish and plants that they might see outside their bubble. 

Perhaps this would be a good location for a honeymoon after all.

The bubble itself was one of the more amazing bits of magic Draco had seen, which – for anyone who’d attended Hogwarts with Fred and George Weasley – was really saying something. Draco had expected a rounded bubble, sitting on the ocean floor. Instead, he saw that they were suspended several inches above the sand, probably to avoid disturbing the plants that were growing underneath. The “floor” was as flat and clear as glass but not as smooth; Draco wasn’t worried about slipping and falling. The “suite” itself was as large as the first floor of the cottage on Skye. And everywhere, everywhere he looked, he saw sea life so exotic and beautiful and mysterious that it made him stare. 

The “walls” of the bubble – really much more of a set of rectangles than a bubble – were completely transparent to the ocean, but it was easy to turn them opaque for privacy from Harry, should he desire it. The walls of the bathroom were actually half-opaque already.

The part of the ocean in which they found themselves probably wasn’t very brightly lit normally, but the bubble seemed to generate its own light, and Draco could see everything he wanted to see, easily. The fish didn’t seem to be bothered by the bubble’s light and he wondered if it was even visible to them.

The hot tub was small but looked comfortable, and Draco thought that might be the next place he went.

The pool table was nothing like what Draco had expected, as he’d never heard of one, and had assumed it was some sort of small swimming pool. Instead, it was a green felt table used for a Muggle game with balls and sticks that Harry was looking forward to teaching him how to play. 

Harry apparently enjoyed pool, was a decent player, and expected Draco to best him at it quickly. “It’s just the sort of thing you’re usually good at, Draco.” Then Harry blushed quite charmingly and pointed out a small, attractive school of fish swimming by. Draco was amused by Harry’s behavior, but he did have to admit that the fish were gorgeous. He ran to the bookcase and looked them up immediately. They were Moorish Idol fish, which meant he and Harry were probably not far from Indonesia, relatively speaking. Draco sat in a chair in the sitting area next to the bookcase and related some of the more interesting facts about Moorish Idol fish to Harry. 

It didn’t take long before he realized Harry wasn’t responding, and he looked up to see Harry had a slightly strangled look on his face. 

“What is _that_ look for?” Draco asked him.

“How did I manage to marry Hermione without realizing?”

Draco threw the book at him and Harry caught it easily. So Draco stood and stalked over to Harry, making sure that the mock annoyance written all over him was vastly exaggerated and patently false. 

“Don’t you _dare_ compare me to her again, Harry!”

“Oh?” Despite Draco's silly reaction, Harry seemed slightly touchy about the direction they were going.

“I am much–” Draco tossed his blond hair over his shoulder and threw himself into Harry’s arms, “–much prettier.”

In response, Harry simply kissed him. It quickly became intense, as Harry’s hands went to Draco's arse and Draco's hands went again into Harry’s black hair. Draco was enjoying the kiss immensely, and it went on and on. For once they had all the time in the world, nowhere else to be, no work in the morning, no games to play with Lucius, nothing to be held back to make sure Harry would come looking for more. 

Harry had been leaning back against the dining table, and Draco managed to sit on it, his thighs around Harry’s hips. He sucked Harry’s supple tongue into his mouth, using his hands to tease and stroke Harry’s neck and hairline.

Slowly Harry opened Draco's robes, touched his skin, bent to lick his nipples. Knowing no one else on earth could hear them, Draco vocalized his pleasure loudly.

“Yes! Oh yes, Harry. So good, let’s take our time, make it last… oh!”

Harry had picked Draco up and was carrying him to the bed.

“I’d love to make it last, but not at the table, pet.”

Draco put his arms around Harry’s neck and smiled. Harry gently placed Draco on the bed, his robes open and splayed all over the duvet. He yanked them away from where Harry was moving to lie down, so Harry wouldn’t be on top of them, but otherwise their clothes remained on.

Harry put his mouth back on Draco's, and they rested on the duvet together. Harry’s fingers were teasing Draco's nipples, stroking the planes of Draco's stomach, teasing the skin just above his briefs. So Draco pulled Harry’s shirt up and dragged the fingernails of his left hand upwards, just hard enough that he thought he must be leaving trails on Harry’s back. Draco gently put the fingertips of his right hand on Harry’s jawline. Not to direct, but to maintain the contact.

They kissed like that for long, leisurely minutes before Harry pushed Draco's robe off Draco's left shoulder, and then put his hand directly over Draco's cock, still trapped in his briefs. They’d been pushing their cocks into one another’s hips, but the hand seemed to raise the volume, speed things up. Draco found himself panting and suddenly longing to get fucked. Only two minutes earlier he’d been relishing the snogging, but now it wasn’t enough.

Seeking to be patient, he said nothing, but either he didn’t need to speak to make his needs clear, or perhaps Harry was feeling just as desperate as he was, for suddenly Harry was kneeling on the bed and tearing off his own shirt, unfastening and slipping down his jeans, flipping onto his back and removing the last of the cloth barriers. Draco was wearing almost nothing but he kicked his boots onto the floor, slipped the robe off his other shoulder and carefully slid his tight briefs off his erection and arse.

Harry bounced off the bed and Draco was confused until Harry returned half a minute later with his favorite brand of lubricant. “ _Madidus_ is fine, but I think I still like this better.”

Draco smiled and opened his arms to Harry, who dropped the little bottle on the bed and dropped his head onto the pillow. 

Oh how he longed to tell Harry, “I love you.” But he just couldn’t be the one who said it first, especially since he didn’t believe Harry would ever love him.

So he moaned and panted and sighed and whimpered instead. As they snogged again, this time with their naked cocks rubbing and rocking against each other. As they teased one another’s bollocks and stroked each other’s nipples and bit gently at each other’s necks. The friction between them rose and rose till Draco wondered if catching fire was the next step.

Finally Harry slid his cock deep into Draco's arse and slowly, oh so slowly, found and then pressed into Draco's prostate on almost every stroke. Draco raised his hips to meet Harry’s inward press, pressed his hands into Harry’s tight arse, stroked Harry’s furled rose nipples, mouthed Harry’s shoulder, kissed Harry’s mouth.

Harry chose a slow, teasing rhythm that Draco thought he meant to keep up for the long haul. Harry bit Draco's shoulder, caressed Draco's sides, rubbed against Draco's bollocks, kissed Draco's mouth.

They fucked and fucked and fucked. Draco couldn’t stop crying out little moans and grunts and panting sounds. He wondered if he might go a bit hoarse.

They came simultaneously.

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Draco and Harry slept, and they woke hungry. It was time for their evening meal, though the actual time was information they didn’t have. Draco decided he liked the timeless quality of life under the ocean. Dim sunlight still seemed to be streaking through the ocean water, but that was fairly meaningless. It wasn’t as though they would need to adjust to a local time zone, after all.

Food was easy to summon, as it turned out. They simply went to the vase and tapped it with a wand. A meal – Harry had chosen the entire menu for the whole vacation when he’d booked it – would appear on the table and they would eat as much of it as they liked. When they were done, they simply put all the dishes into the sink and the magical kitchen dealt with everything. It even put the leftovers in a refrigerator if they felt like eating a small snack later instead of a whole meal.

After they ate, Draco sat down with a book and read for what felt like two or perhaps two and a half hours about the flora and fauna he could see around them, and Harry read something that – from the cover – appeared to be a memoir of a Muggle-born witch who had worked very closely with a Muggle called “The People’s Princess.” Draco assumed – rightly, as it turned out when he asked – that it was some sort of tell-all book about the Muggle Royal family, and he knew it wouldn’t be his cup of tea. But Harry was clearly enjoying it.

Later they played chess twice, lolled together in the hot tub, ate again, and then snuggled in bed for a while, talking about the wedding and how nice it had been. Before they fell asleep Draco found himself promising to try to learn how to play pool in the morning. The lights went off with a simple _Nox_ and Draco slept extremely well, all night long.

Draco woke to an empty bed again. When he looked around he saw that Harry had left the walls of the bedroom area mostly opaque, but he could see Harry sitting in the reading chair. His hair was wet from a shower, and he appeared to be almost done with his book about the Royal family.

Draco stretched and smiled, then hopped into the shower himself. When he dressed, he put on nothing but a pair of silk boxers. They lazed around for a while, ate, played one game of chess, and then Harry was eager to teach Draco how to play pool.

Pool looked like it would be fun, but it didn’t take long at all for Draco to get completely sidetracked. He and Harry were both almost naked, Harry was touching him constantly to show him how to hold the cue stick, how to line things up, how to hit the balls with just the right amount of force. And Harry smelled good.

So Draco teased Harry: rubbing his arse into Harry’s crotch, tossing his hair around, looking up at Harry from half-lidded eyes, and repeatedly getting the pool game terribly wrong so he would need more and more hands-on assistance. It worked quickly. They were at one end of the table, Harry almost on top of Draco's back in an attempt to show him yet again how to properly hold and use the cue stick, when Harry pulled the thing from Draco's hands, gently turned him around, sat him on the table and pressed him downwards with a kiss.

Draco kissed back for a few lovely moments, then braced his heels on the table and pulled his boxers off his hips and down his thighs.

When Harry saw Draco's erection, he yanked his own boxers off as well and wandlessly Summoned the bottle of lubricant.

Soon they were fucking on the pool table. The felt-covered slate was hard under Draco's back, but not cold, and he wrapped his legs high around Harry’s back. Despite the tremendous amount of sex they were having, Draco felt a keen desperation to come, to feel Harry’s orgasm inside him. He didn’t know why he was so frantic and he didn’t care. He just knew what he wanted. So he grabbed his cock in one hand and reached for his bollocks with the other.

“In a hurry?” Harry asked wryly. But Draco didn’t have the patience for being teased right now. He just nodded and pulled harder at his own cock.

Harry gave him a look and a funny little smile, but grabbed Draco's hips more tightly, sped up his own thrusts and started to talk. 

“Desperate for me, pet? Even after days of non-stop fucking you get crazy for me? Needy?”

Draco nodded and felt his eyes go soft, but he didn’t care. He was so in love. If only he could tell Harry. But if wishes were horses, beggars would ride. 

“Gonna fuck you so hard, pet. Gonna make you come.”

Draco nodded. He could sense his own neediness leaking out all over but decided that Harry didn’t seem to care, so he would refuse to let it bother him.

Harry let go of Draco's left hip and reached for his nipple instead. Draco hoped Harry might twist it, but Harry never did that sort of thing, and what Harry did do, firm upward pulls and light squeezes to Draco's entire pectoral muscle, were plenty. Draco came, and Harry came soon after.

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It didn’t happen that day, but Harry eventually did teach Draco how to play pool. Draco beat him for the first time about halfway through their honeymoon, and from then on, he won about two-thirds of the time. But Harry was still a good player and they both enjoyed playing. They decided to get a table for the Manor.

The vacation turned out to be quite marvelous. Draco was unutterably grateful to learn that he and Harry could indeed be together in complete isolation without even getting snippy with each other. They established a pleasant rhythm quickly, leaving each other alone for stretches, having plentiful sex every day, sitting near one another and reading quietly but smiling at each other every once in a while from the sheer, sweet pleasure of being near one another and neither placing nor receiving demands.

It was on the second full day that they had realized the bubble had a swimming pool function, and from then on they both spent an hour or so every day swimming laps with the fish. Then they would wash off the salt together in the hot tub, and usually end up fucking in there.

The food was great, quite a few of the books were very diverting, and Draco also discovered that he could simply sit near the wall or in the hot tub and stare at the sea life outside for incredibly long stretches. Harry laughed and said Draco was a cat, and Draco simply smiled and challenged Harry to find a way to make Draco purr. Harry succeeded. 

They did have to turn off the wizarding wireless though, as every talk, chat and outright gossip program seemed to be about the two of them. The first three minutes were almost amusing, but then it just got tiresome. At least it was clear that no one knew where they were, and their privacy should remain secure.

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One morning Draco woke up completely cradled in a sling. He realized something was different when he tried to stretch and found his ankles caught and his wrists bound. He was frightened very briefly, until he heard Harry’s soothing voice and felt a warm, strong hand on his chest, gentling him like a shying horse. Draco opened his eyes to see that he was suspended mostly over the bed, in a contraption that Harry explained had been shrunk and placed in Harry’s overnight bag before they even left Skye.

“Is that why your overnight bag was twice the size of mine?”

In response, Harry merely winked, leaving Draco to wonder if there were more large surprises hidden away. Draco was veering off into contemplating Harry’s surprising lack of innocence about sexual matters when Harry shoved his cock into Draco's arse.

Draco was overwhelmed to realize that Harry had not only secured him in his sleep, he’d lubed him as well, and managed to dip his head and hips to the exact angle for Harry to slam into Draco's prostate unerringly – every single time.

Draco was soon grateful for the restraints, as the repeated, hard prostate stimulation was so intense that he thought he might come apart as suddenly and easily as a startled school of fish. He even twisted his wrists around to get a better grip on the chains holding the sling, and he screamed his desperate pleasure with every stroke of his husband’s cock.

They _definitely_ needed a sling at home.

Harry seemed to feel similarly, for his head was thrown back and the sounds of ecstasy he was making thrilled Draco almost as much as his own pleasure.

The sling made little squeaking noises as the chain moved in the suspension ring. Draco only noticed this for a few moments, then the rhythmic sounds were lost in a haze of increasing pleasure. The motion of the swing smoothed out the thrusting of sex, and he decided he liked this. It seemed to be easy for Harry to push Draco back and pull him forward, as so much of the work was done by the sling.

No one was touching his cock, but Draco really didn’t care. Harry looked and sounded so erotic, and felt so good in his arse, and hit his prostate so faultlessly, that he was coming and coming all over himself before he knew it. Without even realizing it, he’d completely released his self-control and turned himself over to pure sex.

He only had a few moments to philosophize on this before Harry was coming as well.

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Draco was loving this vacation. Harry started brushing Draco's hair every night before bed, since it reliably turned Draco into a pliable puddle of sexual responsiveness. He enjoyed swimming laps every day. He could happily beat Harry at pool and then lose to him at chess – or the reverse. The hot tub was marvelous. He decided he wanted one of those installed at the Manor as well. The food was fantastic. Draco found himself composing letters of appreciation to UnderWater Magic in his mind as he ate. 

Draco occasionally wondered at his previous nervousness about being alone with Harry for the two weeks of their honeymoon. What had been wrong with him? How could he not have known how delightful this would be? After that first day on Ogygia, the night at the Ministry party, his birthday, their evening in London with the Muggle transportation lessons and Japanese food, hell, after their very first date at the Irish restaurant, dancing, and a night with Harry, how could he not have known how comfortable they were together? How compatible? How explosive the sex and yet rewarding and undemanding the company? They were perfect together, even if Harry never fell in love.

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One day they were terribly surprised by a gentle feminine voice chiming out, “Your vacation will be over in exactly twenty-four hours.” They’d been sitting in the chairs, Harry reading and Draco looking again at the fish. They said nothing, but looked into one another’s eyes, stood, smiled, kissed, and walked together to the bed.

Harry set up the sling again, at Draco's request, and this time Draco actually did go a bit hoarse.

The next morning they ate breakfast, swam, showered quickly and carefully packed their small bags. They had brought very little, but they didn’t know what would happen to a personal item left behind and they weren’t eager to find out.

Once Draco's bag was all packed and he was standing at the bed zipping it up, he felt Harry slip behind him and stroke his shoulders, arms, then hands. Draco smiled and leaned back against Harry’s warm chest. He was in silk boxers and Harry was in swim trunks, so he could feel acres of warm, smooth skin on his own. It felt lovely.

He put the bag on the floor and then turned to face his groom. “We haven’t heard the two hour warning yet. I think we have enough time for a nice, leisurely fuck. Don’t you?”

Harry answered by smiling, then stripping off his trunks. Draco licked Harry’s ear as lightly as he could manage while Harry removed Draco's boxers and they both got on the bed. Suddenly they heard the two hour warning, but they smiled at each other. That was all right, they were packed already, they’d eaten. They had more than enough time for this.

Draco was on his back and Harry was on his elbows above him, rubbing their cocks together, teasing at Draco's neck with teeth and tongue, when Draco heard “I want to eat you, husband.”

“My neck?” Draco panted.

“No, pet. Your arse.”

Draco moaned his approval and Harry licked and bit and nipped his way down Draco's body, avoiding Draco's erection completely and winking when Draco glared at him.

Harry got comfortable between Draco's legs and began teasing him shamelessly. His tongue and fingertips were all over Draco's thighs, but he hardly touched Draco's testicles at all, and he was completely avoiding Draco's arsehole.

Draco gripped the duvet firmly in his fists and panted, willing himself to be patient and allow Harry his power and control. But oh how he wanted more!

At long last Draco was elated to feel Harry’s mouth on his scrotum, then his perineum, and finally his pucker. “Yesss!” he hissed. 

Harry’s mouth was **so** talented. He was brilliant at varying – in a maddening way – between firm touches and feathery teasing; between giving Draco the amazing sensations of tongue fucking Draco's hole, and licking swirls on the skin outside. 

Then Harry kissed Draco's inner thigh once and moved up Draco's body. “Want you on top, baby. Climb on my cock?”

“Anytime, Harry.”

Draco and Harry changed positions, and Draco straddled Harry’s beautiful body. He grabbed the lube, rather amazed to see that there was still enough left for several fucks. Harry had planned well. He vaguely heard the one hour warning chime, but gave it little mind. Harry was probably pretty close by now. Draco certainly was. He lubed Harry quickly and tossed the bottle to the floor.

Draco grabbed Harry’s cock firmly and, watching Harry hiss with pleasure, lowered himself. Then he interlaced his fingers with Harry’s and used the resulting leverage to slide up and down easily on his husband’s substantial cock.

Draco had been teased within an inch of orgasm with all that rimming, and now, controlling the pace and reliably hitting his own prostate with Harry’s big cock, he knew he was about to explode. “So close, Harry…” he warned. Their eyes locked and Draco flushed with bliss. Up, down, up, down, and then he was shaking and groaning and pulsing his pleasure over Harry’s beautiful golden skin. Their eyes were still locked, and as Draco hit the peak of his pleasure, he saw a shadow of something indefinable, then confusion and lastly a vague discomfort pass across Harry’s face.

He was too caught up in the reactions of his own body to stop, but once he’d come he touched Harry’s cheek and asked “Is everything all right? Did I hurt you?”

Harry simply shook his head “no” and flipped Draco onto his stomach. Then he slid back into Draco's body and quickly came. He rested on Draco's back for a few moments, as Draco wondered what on earth Harry had been thinking.

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When they got back to the cottage Harry’s behavior was still a bit odd, but Draco refused to worry about it. At Harry’s suggestion he ended their honeymoon a day early in order to find his mother and have a little talk with her about keeping Lucius out of Harry and Draco's hair. Narcissa was remarkably cooperative for a wife bound by _in manuum_ , but Draco assumed that after more than thirty years of it, Narcissa would know the limits of the magic quite well, and if she promised to do her best to keep Lucius away – especially until Harry and Draco could re-key the outer wards to keep him out without express invitation – then he should relax and believe her. 

He was actually surprisingly glad to be home, organizing things, taking charge of the house-elves, introducing Winky to the rest of them, and reorganizing the rooms that he’d chosen as his and Harry’s bedroom and sitting room.

He spent hours thus occupied, and it wasn’t until the sun began to set that he realized that he’d not seen Harry at the manor in all that time. He considered Apparating to the cottage or the London house to look for his husband, but chose against it. Too confrontational. Instead, he fell asleep in a chair by the main Floo, and didn’t retire to his empty marriage bed until the wee hours of the morning. There he had disturbing dreams about the mysterious look he’d seen in Harry’s eyes.


	15. Revelation, Resolution, Rededication

This fic is NC-17. Very NC-17. No kids!

Summary: The Dark Lord is gone, Lucius is finally out of prison, and the Malfoy name is in the toilet. But Lucius knows just how to redeem it...

Warnings: Dominance/submission games, Lucius!bashing, manipulative!Draco, future mpreg implied.  
Pairing: Harry/Draco  
Genres: Romance, Fluff, Smut, Angst.

Disclaimer: They aren't mine, they belong to the clever Scottish lady. I just bend them and love them. Please don't smack me for playing. It isn't like I am going to earn any money from this!

Beta by DrGaellon and 13_Moons.

 

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Chapter Fifteen:

Draco slept badly, and when he woke the next morning he felt cold, uneasy, and something else that he couldn’t immediately identify.

He rose to stretch and use the toilet, and that was when he saw that he was still alone in the large bed he’d expected to share with Harry every night for the rest of their lives. Lonely. The something else he felt was lonely.

Where was Harry?

Worse, technically they were still on their honeymoon. Harry had taken three weeks off work and it was only Thursday. Harry had wanted to have some down time at the cottage and then the Manor, he’d said, getting used to his new life before he went back to work. So where was he? He’d sent Draco back to the Manor a whole day earlier than they’d originally planned. Draco had surprised his mother, who hadn’t expected them to be back until today, and then Harry hadn’t come home last night, and Draco had slept alone. Alone! 

Draco had loved the idea of a few days at the Manor – a lovely, long restful weekend after the vacation itself – and then resettling at the cottage on Skye. He had imagined them fucking in the gazebo in the garden, imagined riding Harry’s cock all over the house, the two of them getting beds filthy with chocolate sauce, lube, and come and then falling asleep together – unconcerned – in the mess.

He’d expected them to use this time to claim the place as their own. Resetting wards, of course, and formally introducing Harry to the house-elves, that too. But primarily, Draco had wanted to fuck the taint of his father and Draco's former life out of the very walls. He wanted his and Harry’s spunk to mingle with the magic of the ancient place and change the atmosphere – the very air.

A foolish and romantic notion, perhaps, but a stimulating one as well. Not to mention, it would have been a hell of a lot of fun.

Instead, Harry had sent him here early, alone, and they’d been apart ever since. He really didn’t like that. At all. 

Draco sat in the breakfast room, alone, drinking his coffee and trying to figure out what to do. Every solution he thought of was out of the question. He would not go looking for Harry. He wouldn’t go Apparating to all the places Harry lived and all his friends’ houses looking for him. He would not owl Harry with a demand to come home, or even with a plea for communication.

He’d only truly confronted Harry once in their entire relationship, and that was when he had nothing to lose; Harry had just ended their engagement and there was nothing to risk anymore. Once in conversation Draco had gently pushed the question of trust, but Harry had simply ignored the question and Draco had given up quickly.

They might be married now, but Draco had his dignity and his pride, he was still a Malfoy, he… oh, who was he kidding. Draco was scared to fuck things up. 

Molly Weasley’s advice about communication and trust floated into his mind and he felt uneasy. When the ideas were purely abstract, he’d enjoyed imagining implementing Molly’s advice. Of course, he’d mostly pictured himself sitting with Harry in the gardens on sunny days, watching the children play, inventing wonderful things their kids would do that he would be able to tell Harry all about. But now… now, that before the honeymoon was even over, he was faced with a Harry who was missing, refusing to come home, hadn’t owled…. Draco was out of his depth. He could manipulate Harry into bed, into lust, even, apparently, into marriage. But honesty? Open, honest communication? Based on love? He simply had no experience with it. Neither personal experience, nor as an observer.

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Draco flailed around for hours, trying to keep his mind off Harry’s absence. Trying to find reasonable things to keep him busy. Trying to pretend this was normal. He exercised. He took a long walk in the drizzling rain. He wrote an impressive number of thank you notes for wedding gifts. He would have liked to reset the wards to keep out his parents, but he needed Harry to do that. Unless he wanted to shut Harry out as well.

So, of course, Draco was in the breakfast room writing thank you notes when Lucius popped in unannounced.

Draco was caught off guard enough that his father saw him startle slightly, which was nearly unforgivable. Draco was ashamed to lose so much control in front of Lucius. At least he was sure he had hidden the shame. Lucius stood in the doorway looking imperious. Draco longed to roll his eyes. Instead, he stood and graciously gestured for his father to enter the room, to sit. Instead, Lucius stood next to the table and looked over what Draco was writing.

Draco snapped for a house-elf and ordered croissants and more coffee.

“Son.”

“Father. How lovely to see you. How is Mother? The villa?”

“All is well in France, thank you for asking. And here? Why is - Harry not eating with you?” Lucius barely hesitated before calling his new son-in-law by his first name, but Draco caught the slip nonetheless.

Draco smiled and lied easily. “Harry is napping. I think I’ve exhausted him.”

“Yet I do not sense his presence.”

“I’m not surprised. We’ve been adjusting the wards,” Draco lied again.

“Have you?” Lucius raised one pale eyebrow. “I see I can still enter the house easily, however. I’m glad to see you do not overstep your place, my son.” 

Lucius suddenly looked less imperious, more conciliatory. Perhaps even a bit uncomfortable. “I wished to tell you that I am very proud of what you have accomplished so far. I did not anticipate anyone would be able to marry Potter without conceding _in manuum_ and more, and yet you’ve not only bonded with him like any ordinary citizen, he wears your ring and took our name into his own. You’ve done more than I expected.”

Draco nodded graciously as though this had all been his idea. As though he’d accomplished these things with his father’s goals in mind.

Lucius accepted Draco's nod and continued to speak, now looking far more his ordinary arrogant self. “But my son, now the real work begins. I have your first assignment. Once your husband returns to work, I want him to try to undermine his supervisor. Sycamore is a lightweight, an idealist and a do-gooder. I can’t work with him. I need someone more practical, more pragmatic in his place, and your husband is perfect. See to it that Potter is in his new position before the year is out. When things start moving again after the December holidays I want far more pull in the Auror department. From there, we’ll work on expanding my influence more broadly.”

Draco listened impassively, giving away – he was quite sure – nothing whatsoever. He briefly considered telling his father to go to hell, but what could he really do right now? His position was unbearably weak this afternoon. Harry was missing, they’d been out of contact for over twenty-four hours, Draco couldn’t yet keep Lucius out of the house, and apparently Mother couldn’t keep Lucius in France. 

Draco was trapped in a corner. He’d have to explain reality to Lucius another day – assuming he was still even really married, for fuck’s sake. Cursing himself inwardly for his own overdeveloped sense of melodrama, Draco smiled easily at his father again and did his best to play him like a lute.

“Have you any suggestions for me, Father? It sounds as though you know Auror Sycamore a great deal better than I do.”

Warming to the subject, Lucius began to pompously advise Draco on all manner of ways to advance Lucius’ agenda. Draco nodded and “mmm-hmmed” and generally pretended for a solid thirty minutes that he cared. It was tedious, but it would get Lucius out of his hair soon, and probably for several weeks. By then, hopefully Harry would be back and they would have talked their problem over – whatever it was – and more importantly they’d have reset the fucking wards to keep Lucius out.

It wasn’t until Lucius had left and Draco had called for yet more coffee to drink – while he wrote yet more thank you notes – that Winky accidentally revealed Harry had briefly stopped into the Manor earlier that afternoon. With further questioning, Draco realized that Harry had almost certainly overheard part of Draco's conversation with Lucius.

Draco could have cried from the frustration.

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Draco trudged through the rest of Thursday, and all of Friday, and then Saturday morning. He exercised until he was sore, completed and owled every single thank you note, and even wrote a letter of appreciation to that UnderWater Magic company Harry had purchased their honeymoon from. He got a terse owl from Snape on Friday, explaining that Harry was fine, that he’d been to see Snape and Lupin, that he might not be home for a little while longer. Harry was glad to know Harry was all right, but it hurt to know that Harry would talk to Snape and not to Draco. 

And he analyzed and reanalyzed his and Harry’s relationship, from every angle. He couldn’t help himself.

Draco came very close, many times, to Flooing off in search of Harry. But every time, he’d allowed his insecurities to stop him. He simply didn’t feel confident enough in the marriage yet to take a risk. And no wonder! As uncomfortable as the idea of talking over difficult issues made him, Draco was coming to appreciate Molly Weasley’s wisdom about communication. He and Harry really did need to talk. And it was not likely to be a delightful conversation. They had simply never really opened up to one another about their relationship itself. It was long overdue, but Draco felt powerless to begin the conversation. Especially with Harry missing.

He thought and thought about when things had snapped. He worried over the memories, and even dragged out an old Pensieve. Eventually, he couldn’t blame himself any longer. True, he should have asked Harry about it, but whatever this was, it had started the last time they’d made love in the ocean. Everything had been easy and comfortable and happy. And then a shadow passed over Harry’s face while Draco was bucking and riding and exploding, and Harry had been distant and unavailable ever since.

What had that shadow been about? Draco tortured himself with possibilities.

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Draco was eating lunch when Harry suddenly strolled into the breakfast room as though nothing had happened. As though he hadn’t been missing and completely out of contact for days.

Draco nearly dropped his fork. He started to rise from his seat then sat again. He went to smooth his hair away from his forehead then stopped. He was so flustered he couldn’t say anything and he truly did not know what to do.

Harry sat across the small table from his new husband and looked at his hands, clasped together in front of him, right where Harry’s plate would be if Draco had known he would be there for lunch.

Draco wanted to speak, or perhaps to yell, but he feared that if he opened his mouth he would either shed tears or speak harshly. He did not want to do either, so he sat in silence and hoped Harry would start. Harry, finally, took a deep breath and began.

“Draco, I owe you an apology. I should not have… well, there are a lot of things I shouldn’t have done. Most immediately, I should not have vanished for three days without telling you where I was and that I was all right.” Harry sighed and looked at his hands. Draco tried to look at Harry’s face. He seemed uneasy, worried and on edge.

“Snape owled.” Harry looked surprised. “So I knew you weren’t, you know, hurt.”

“I’m glad you knew. I should have had the decency to tell you myself, though.” Harry gestured at Draco's water glass. “I… can I have a sip of your water?” Draco pushed it across the table at him. Winky suddenly popped in and waited to be acknowledged.

Harry turned to her. “Winky. Glad you’re here. Please bring Draco a new glass of water and cheese and crackers for me. Then I want you to tell all the other elves that Draco and I need to be completely undisturbed for the rest of the day unless we call for you, all right? Close off the Floo and lock the front door.

“I hope that’s all right with you, Draco?”

Draco simply nodded. It looked like the two of them were finally going to talk. 

Winky returned quickly, placing the food and drink on the table. Then she bowed once and popped out. They were alone again, and now it should last. Indefinitely. Draco swallowed, despite knowing how necessary this was. This “talking” would surely be unpleasant. Certainly, he’d avoided it strenuously enough.

“Draco, when our honeymoon was almost over, I suddenly had… a revelation.”

Draco nodded. He already knew that much.

“What I realized – it frightened me. I felt vulnerable and exposed. I thought if I spent a night away from you, though, that feeling would go away. Instead, it got stronger. The past few days I’ve been thinking a lot, and talking, too. I spoke with Seamus and Blaise, with Remus and Severus, and with Hermione and Ron, and that was all helpful to some extent, but then I spoke with Molly Weasley, and it all became clear. 

“Draco, I’m going to tell you something I’ve never told you before. I don’t know how you’re going to react, but Molly helped me see that I have to take this risk, even though I don’t know how you feel. I just… you need to know how nervous I am.”

Draco reached across the table and took one of Harry’s hands in his own. It was cold and sweaty. Harry was obviously anxious as hell. Draco took a deep breath and looked in Harry’s eyes. Then he waited nervously. _We’ll get through this together,_ he told himself. _Harry is home now and we’ll get through this together, whatever it is._

Harry looked into Draco's eyes, then looked away, took a long sip of water, put the glass down, and twisted it in the circle of condensation.

Finally, Harry looked back into Draco's eyes.

“Draco, I… I still don’t trust your father, but I do trust you.”

Draco inhaled deeply, only then realizing he’d been holding his breath. He’d been waiting to hear that for so terribly, painfully long.

“I don’t know if you were aware of it, but I came here the other day, wanting to ignore the issue and pretend I could sweep this under the rug, and I saw you talking with your father. I overheard some of the conversation, too.”

Draco simply nodded once. He’d already learned most of that from a conversation with Winky.

“That’s what sent me to Severus and Remus, actually. They helped me see that you’re a Slytherin, and therefore I would have to hear your side. I couldn’t assume I knew the whole story based only on what I had heard.”

Draco managed a small smile. Thank Moses Harry knew a few Slytherins besides Draco.

“I can admit that I was livid at first, but Severus helped me see several different things that conversation could have meant to you. I’m willing to trust that you do have my, and our, best interests at heart.

“But that isn’t what I realized.”

Harry paused and Draco decided he could step into the silence. “I saw it, you know. I saw you thinking when I came. It looked like a shadow passed over your face. You looked confused, and then you looked… uncomfortable. Like whatever you’d thought of was… distasteful.”

“No. Oh, Draco… no! Not distasteful. No, just… ah shit. What I realized, it frightened me, made me feel vulnerable, and that’s what you saw on my face. But what I actually realized, what I finally understood….”

Harry took Draco's other hand in his own, and they held hands across the table and looked into one another’s eyes. Draco thought he probably looked nervous and hopeful. Harry certainly did.

“Draco. What I realized, what I finally saw, was that I love you. I’m in love with you.”

Draco flushed and gripped hard at Harry’s hands. He felt slightly faint. Harry loved him!

“I was looking into your eyes, and you came, and I was inside you, and it was like my heart cracked open and filled my whole body with warmth, and then… freezing cold, because I knew you didn’t love me back –”

Draco was astonished. Harry thought Draco didn’t love him?

“– and I just knew – or anyway, I thought I knew, right then – that you and your father would take my love and use it against me, like a weapon.”

Draco knew he looked horrified and angry. Harry held tightly to his hands and he couldn’t pull away. He was so upset he couldn’t speak. A second passed, and Harry spoke again.

“That’s what I thought, Draco, but I just told you a minute ago, I trust you. Now I know those things aren’t true. I mean… shit. I love you, I do, that’s true. And I don’t know if you love me or not. But I know you aren’t going to use this against me. I know you are a good man, a good husband. I know you aren’t what I feared in that moment on the ocean floor.” 

Draco reeled with everything he’d just learned. Harry was in love with him. Harry didn’t know that Draco was in love with Harry. Harry had actually thought that Draco would collude with Lucius to manipulate Harry and use his love of Draco as a tool of power and control. Harry said he didn’t believe that anymore, that he trusted Draco, but nonetheless, he’d thought those terrible things only a few days ago.

Draco stood, pulling his hands from Harry’s tense grip. “Harry… I need some time alone.” Draco smoothed his shirt, pushed his chair back a bit more, composed himself as best he could. He looked at Harry, and Harry looked a bit shaken, but mostly accepting, resigned. 

Draco Apparated to his old bedroom and sat in a chair by the window. He didn’t bother to lock or ward the door. If Harry wished to come and beg Draco's forgiveness, Draco thought that would be acceptable, but he needed a moment to regroup.

What a fucking mess.

How had it come to this? But no, that was a stupid question. How could it **not** have come to this? Really, when he gave it his consideration, he could see they’d been a train wreck waiting to happen. They never talked about their relationship. Here they were, married almost three weeks, and he was surprised and shocked to receive his husband’s very first declaration of love. How long had he been mad for Harry? And yet Harry didn’t even **know**. Molly Weasley had tried to convince Draco that Harry loved him, and he hadn’t even been willing to believe.

Draco thought about how he’d longed for Harry to trust him. But really, he was such a fucking hypocrite, because he didn’t trust Harry. He hadn’t trusted Harry to be honest and open and true; he hadn’t trusted Harry to be a good man, a Gryffindor at heart, or to be capable of falling in love with Draco. He’d manipulated, played games, played Lucius against Harry, and toyed with Harry’s heart. He’d held back crucial truths for fear of losing his advantage.

Certainly, he’d trusted Harry to take care of his body, to bring him to heights of ecstatic pleasure he’d never dared hope he would reach. And Harry had done that, and more, over and over. He suddenly remembered telling Harry in the shower on Skye that he trusted Harry not to drop him on the floor. But he hadn’t trusted Harry any further than that. He’d trusted Harry with his body, and he’d been more than richly rewarded for it. 

But now he needed to trust Harry with his heart.

Draco stood and returned to the breakfast room. This time he walked. He needed that long minute to compose himself. 

When he arrived, Harry was sitting, staring out the window. Draco suspected Harry couldn’t see a thing beyond his own thoughts, however.

“Harry.” Harry whipped his head around. His eyes held hope, fear, and now that Draco knew to look, love. Now that he knew it was there, what it looked like, he realized it had been there in Harry’s eyes for a long, long time. He smiled at Harry and reached out a hand to him. Harry stood and took it. They were going to be fine. Draco smiled.

“Harry, I have so much to say, but the first thing I need to tell you, is that I love you, too. I’ve been in love with you for at least a year.”

Harry’s face opened up into the warmest, happiest smile Draco had ever seen, and then he was crushing Draco into an embrace and they were kissing, open mouthed, tongues entwined, hips pressing, hands reaching, kissing, kissing, kissing. Draco felt his cock start to harden so he began to gently push Harry away. Now was not the time. They had a lot more talking to do before they had explosive make-up sex.

“What’s the matter, love?”

Draco laid his head on Harry’s shoulder. “Love.” Harry had finally, finally called him “love.” He wrestled with his control so that he would speak with a clear voice, but he left his head nestled into Harry’s neck and he gently stroked Harry’s hair.

“Nothing is wrong, _nothing_. But we aren’t done talking. We still have more to say, more to hear. But I think it will all be good. 

“Look. It’s stopped raining. Will you walk in the gardens with me? Hold my hand and walk and talk with me?”

Harry kissed Draco's temple and took hold of Draco's left hand with his right. “I would love to, Draco.”

Holding hands, they left the breakfast room. Smiling goofily at one another, they headed for the closest exit and therefore walked through the ballroom where they had married a few weeks earlier. The French doors were all shut tight against the weather now, but the ballroom overlooked the gardens, and they headed for the nearest exit. 

The garden was quite wet from that morning’s rain, but the sun was out now, and it was a lovely warm afternoon.

Draco spoke first. “You told me Molly Weasley was the one who helped you see it all clearly. What did she say that helped?”

“Well, it was the two main things, really. She told me that I’m a Gryffindor, and I had to take a risk and tell you what I really felt. And she told me that I needed to respect you, and believe in you, and trust you enough to reveal this last secret.”

Draco nodded. “She said similar things to me, really.”

“You spoke with her?” Harry sounded surprised.

“I should have known she wouldn’t reveal a confidence. She’s an incredible woman; I’m seeing that, finally. Yes, I asked her to tea a few weeks before the wedding. I wanted advice on how to make our marriage successful. I wanted to know what her and Arthur’s secrets were. Did you know they’ve been married over forty years?”

Harry nodded easily. He knew the Weasleys well, after all.

“She told me that the secrets to a solid marriage were communication and respect. And trust, really. All the things we’ve lacked the most, throughout our whole relationship.”

“You think we’ve lacked those things? All of them? Even respect?”

“Don’t get me wrong, Harry. I trust and respect you, and we’ve communicated about some very important things: my childhood, your feelings about work and fame and… well, plenty of important things. But I never trusted or respected you enough to be honest with you about my feelings, until you were honest with me. I was, quite frankly, terrified to open my heart to you. And it seems you were similarly frightened.”

Harry nodded. “Yes, really, we were both so scared. Isn’t that silly?”

“Well, perhaps.” Draco didn’t want this to turn this into a session of nothing but self-condemnation. They’d had their reasons. “Considering our history, it’s a wonder how much we did accomplish, I think. We hated each other for years. Or thought we did, anyway. I was a Death Eater… you, well, you know. Slytherin, Gryffindor. I’m an ex-convict; you’re an Auror. Really, love, we had a lot to overcome. No wonder we were on eggshells. No wonder we screwed it up a bit.”

Draco looked out at the bowers of beautiful peach roses that were the only rebellion his poor mother had been permitted in over thirty years.

“And we might not have been able to admit we were in love until now, but we did manage to get married. And we did so on our own terms. And now that you are home, we can reset the wards and only allow my parents in here on our own terms, too.”

They walked together quietly for a moment, swinging their hands, avoiding puddles, until Harry responded.

“You’re right, love. I hadn’t really thought about it carefully. We did have a lot to overcome. I guess I was a lot more aware of that at first. Back when I got that letter from your father all I could think of was how crazy an idea it was, but then… then…”

“Then it became sexual.”

Harry breathed noisily. It sounded almost like a laugh. “Yeah. When I got my first taste of your skin….”

“Me too, Harry. Moses, I’d wanted you for so long. When we finally touched that first time, in my father’s study, I thought my head would explode. It was like every piece of training I’d ever had, in my whole life, evaporated into nothing and all I could do was kiss you.

“You’re an incredible kisser, you know.” Draco turned his head to the side a bit and smiled at Harry.

“Pet, if you keep talking about this stuff I’m going to shag you right here in the gardens. And as much as I’d _like_ to shag you, I do believe you’re right that we have some more talking to do first.”

Draco smiled at Harry’s attempt at compliance. “Well, husband, there are some things I would love to hear you explain.”

“Ask away. I promise to do my best to answer you.” Harry tugged gently at Draco's hand and they moved down a different path.

“The last time we were on Ogygia, we were talking about pregnancy and birth, and you suddenly got so distracted and uncomfortable. What was that about?”

“I remember that. I could tell you thought I was worried about your looks!”

“Well, yes, that was the first thing I thought of. I take it I was wrong?” Draco saw they were heading for the gazebo where he liked to exercise. He smiled.

“I was so excited to think about having children with you, but then do you remember what exactly triggered my change in mood?”

“I think so… it was when I said I would need a Cesarean section to give birth. That’s why I thought I should reassure you that we could get rid of the scar….”

“Pet, I was upset because I realized that every child we have will put you in physical danger.”

“Danger? But Harry, I’ll be at St. Mungo’s, I’ll have the very best medi-magical care….”

Harry stopped Draco and turned to him. They stood near the shadow cast by the gazebo, but still in the weak English sun. “I know, my love. I know. But no one said love was rational. When you told me that you would have to have major surgery every single time we had a child, after I’d told you I wanted at least five and maybe ten children? I was so afraid for you. I felt like such a cad for insisting that you bear every child. 

“I wondered if I should take a few years off work and bear a few of them myself, to take some of the burden and danger off your shoulders. That’s why I went all cold and weird on you that day. Because, to me, you’d just told me that I was putting you under the knife. For me. Because I was too selfish to give up my career.”

Draco gaped at Harry. “ _That’s_ what you had been feeling?”

Harry nodded shyly.

“Harry… that is so….” Draco couldn’t seem to express his tenderness any other way, so he gave Harry the softest of kisses: lips to lips, breath on skin, a gentle press and then it was complete. Then he tugged Harry toward the gazebo steps. They walked up, and Draco dried the wooden bench with his wand. They sat, turning slightly so as to partially face each other.

Draco took a deep breath. He knew it was his turn, and he wasn’t sure how this was going to go. “Harry, I have a confession to make. I deliberately eavesdropped on you at Pansy’s wedding. I heard you tell Hermione that you weren’t in love with me.”

Harry looked thunderstruck. “You did?”

Draco nodded, still a bit ashamed. 

Harry patted Draco’s hand and looked into his eyes. “You… all right, well, I forgive you. I eavesdropped on you once, myself, that time at the party for Charlie and Vi’s baby. I’m hardly blameless. And I apologize. It must have hurt like hell to hear that.”

Draco almost lied, from sheer habit. Then he stopped himself, took another deep breath, and told the truth. “Yes. It did hurt like hell. It broke my heart a little bit. Even though you had never told me that you _did_ love me, I had certainly hoped that you did.”

“I did, pet. I did. I just wasn’t willing to admit it to myself – or anyone else. Not then. Molly helped me see that I had some screwed up ideas about love. Add the lack of good example from my aunt and uncle to all the stuff people have always said about my mum and dad’s perfect marriage, and I guess I had love a little idealized. I don’t think I was capable of applying it to us. In part because, even after Remus and everything else, I’m still a little… homophobic.” Harry cringed.

Draco was confused. “I don’t see how a gay person can be homophobic.”

“Bisexual, pet.” Harry gave Draco an indulgent smile and squeezed his hand a bit.

“Fine. Bisexual. How can a bisexual person be homophobic?”

“Because my aunt and uncle hated gay people, and even though there isn’t anything unusual about us marrying and having children in the wizarding world, I was raised to think that we are… that gay love is… abhorrent.”

Draco was shocked. “Like that hideous man we ran into at the zoo?”

“I know, lover, I know. I want you to know that most Muggles don’t feel that way. At all! And we could go get married as Muggles, and although men can’t get pregnant without magic, we could adopt children as Muggles… it isn’t a Muggle problem. It was my problem.”

“Molly didn’t say anything about that.”

“Molly speculated about me?”

Draco nodded.

“I shouldn’t be surprised. Her children all love to tell me she’s incredibly intrusive and interfering.”

Draco bristled. He’d become profoundly fond of Molly.

“Oh don’t take that the way it sounds, Draco, they mean it with love. They would tell you so themselves! Anyway, I’m not surprised Molly didn’t think to tell you I had to overcome a bit of internalized homophobia. She’s as pureblooded as you are, and it wouldn’t have occurred to her. Really, it’s wonderful to live in a world where same-sex love doesn’t catch anyone’s attention, where it’s bog standard and ordinary. And I’m mostly used to it myself. It’s just….”

“It can still pop up sometimes? Get in the way when there’s something big going on?”

“Yeah.” Harry seemed relieved to have Draco explain it for him.

“Harry? One thing still confuses me.”

“Only one thing?” Harry’s eyes twinkled alarmingly.

“Quit twinkling!” Draco’s annoyance was only partially feigned. That was… disturbing.

“Sorry love.” Harry seemed chagrinned. 

Draco put a hand on a hip and fluffed himself up a bit to make a point. “ _One_ thing, _in particular_ , is coming to mind right _now_.”

Harry gave Draco an indulgent and loving smile, apparently thanking him for the touch of levity in such a serious conversation. 

“How could you possibly think I wasn’t in love with you? After, for example, the way I behaved that morning after Theodore Nott tried to storm Azkaban?”

“Well, I suppose it’s pretty obvious in retrospect, sweetheart, but you never said you were in love with me.”

Draco thought for a moment. “I suppose I could say the same. You’ve made your feelings clear for so long, like when you refused to marry me _in manuum_. I was just too unsure of our relationship to believe it could be true, even after what Molly said.”

In response, Harry leaned over and kissed Draco's cheek. Then he stood, silently asking Draco to stand with him. Still holding hands, the two men began to meander back towards the ballroom. They had left one set of French doors open, and they made their way toward them.

“So, you said…” Harry hesitated, then seemed to choose to barrel ahead. “You said you’ve been in love with me for at least a year? Isn’t that before your father even got out of Azkaban?”

“Yes.” Draco said, simply. “I’ve been trying to win you for well over a year.”

“Why?” They reached the flagstone patio.

Draco turned and faced Harry. “Because I love you. Because I wanted you. Because I wanted you in my life,” he winked grandly, “not to mention in my arse on a regular basis.”

“Really?” Harry stroked Draco's hair away from his forehead. “Not for all those reasons your father gave? The rehabilitation of the Malfoy name? All that crap?”

“Nope.” Draco grinned, unrepentant. “I’ve been after you for purely selfish reasons since before my father even got out of prison.”

“Does he know?”

“He has no idea.”

Laughing, the pair entered the ballroom, carefully shutting the doors behind them against the weather and the rest of the world.

Halfway across the ballroom floor, Harry stopped walking. Surprised, Draco took one step past him, then turned to look at Harry, one eyebrow up in question.

Harry held his arms out to lead. “Dance with me? You know how I love to dance with you.”

Draco waved his wand at a cupboard near the stage for a band, and the doors opened to reveal a wireless. It turned on, and a waltz played. Draco stepped into Harry’s arms and they began to dance together, turning and twirling through the room.

When the song ended, Draco was breathless, not from exertion, but from lust and hope and happiness and a newfound, wonderful sense of trust. “Harry?”

“Yes, love?” Harry was caressing Draco's back, holding him close. They were going to end up in the bedroom soon, but Draco felt there was a bit more that needed to be said first.

“Do you remember the first time you took me to Ogygia, and you wanted to use Legilimency on me, and I begged you not to?”

“Yes, pet. It led to some pretty incredible sex.” Harry winked and smiled.

“Do it now. I want you to look into my mind now.”

“You what?” Harry looked surprised.

“I want to prove that I’m trustworthy, that I am who you think I am, that…”

Harry put a finger on Draco's lips.

“I don’t need to, love. I don’t need to. Not anymore. But it means a lot that you would offer.” Suddenly there was a gleam in Harry’s eye that Draco couldn’t interpret.

“And I have a better idea, anyway.”

“Oh?” Draco had no idea where this conversation was going anymore. 

“Come to Ogygia with me. Marry me.”

Draco put his hands on Harry’s waist and laughed. “Harry, we’re already married.”

“Marry me again, my love.” Harry pulled Draco closer and spoke quietly into his ear. “Come to Ogygia with me and marry me again. Just the two of us, naked on the sand, making our promises and this time, looking each other in the eye. If we cry, we cry. No one will see but us. All right?”

There were already tears in Draco's eyes, pricking at the edges, tempting him to let them fall. “Yes. Yes, I will.”

And the Manor shimmered away, replaced by dawn on Ogygia’s pristine white beach. They were a few feet from the big bed, and the sun was rising, letting Draco know which way was east. He turned slightly, to reduce the glare, and Harry moved to block the dazzling sun.

Harry began to strip, so Draco did also. Soon all their clothes were in a little sandy heap and they were naked, holding wands, wearing nothing but smiles and wedding rings.

Suddenly, Harry took both of Draco's hands in his own, and with no other preamble, he began to speak. “I, Harry James Malfoy-Potter, promise to love you. I promise to trust and respect you. I promise to work hard to communicate with you. I promise to do everything I can to be a good father to our children. I promise to take this marriage seriously and do everything I can to make it last, and make it wonderful, until one of us dies. Hopefully a couple of hundred years from now!”

Draco swallowed and looked into Harry’s eyes. “I, Draco Bardolf Alexandre Malfoy-Potter, vow to love you. I vow to trust you and respect you and do my very best to communicate with you and keep our marriage healthy and strong. I promise to care for you, and for our children, to the best of my ability. I promise to put you and me and our marriage above my father and his plans.”

Draco thought that would be everything, and he was so happy with what they had done, with what it had meant, with the whole conversation so far. But then Harry started to remove his wedding ring, and he gestured for Draco to do the same. Confused, Draco went ahead. Harry spoke again.

“With this ring, I thee wed.” Then he slipped his own ring, the one inscribed with H.J.M-P inside, onto Draco's finger. It didn’t fit quite right, and Harry waved his wand at it and muttered. Now it fit perfectly.

So Draco began to slip his own ring onto Harry’s finger. “With this ring, I thee wed,” he said. And then the tears started to fall, and they began to kiss. Sparing a moment to resize his new ring, Harry then picked Draco up in his arms and carried him the few steps to the bed.

Harry put Draco down and lay next to him. “There’s just one last thing, my darling.”

“What Harry? What else could there possibly be, except making love?”

“Oh, I want to make love, but I want you to top.”

Draco nearly jumped up in shock. “I! You do? Oh, Moses… I’ve dreamed of doing that with you, longed for it…. Have you ever, I mean, did Justin?”

“I’m not going to answer that, love. Justin was another life, and he means nothing now. You’re all that matters now. I’ve used a dildo before, but it’s been ages. I’ll need you to prepare me. I’m sure I’m as tight as a virgin.”

Draco shivered with desire; he was fully erect – so was Harry – but he really needed to know what this meant to his husband. “Harry? Why?” Draco stroked Harry’s face and looked into his eyes.

Harry relaxed on the bed and looked up at Draco, who leaned over him on an elbow and looked into his eyes, stroked his chest.

“I think I was never willing to let you do that before because of the way we were together at Hogwarts. I’m a little ashamed of that.”

“Don’t be, love. I think I responded so powerfully to it for the very same reason. The first version of our relationship was all about power and besting one another. I guess you still wanted to best me.”

“Mmm. Yeah. I think that’s why. But what about you?”

“It felt so good to just concede that you were the winner, lover. Submitting was a little like saying I was wrong to take the Dark Mark, to follow Voldemort, all that.”

“Blech. That’s not stuff I wanted in bed with us!”

“Well, Harry, it isn’t like I was actively thinking about any of it at the time! But I’ve been thinking about us almost nonstop since Thursday night when you didn’t come home. I’ve come to some conclusions. That’s just one of them. And I still want to top you, right now – and other times too. But you’ll still be in charge when I ask you to be, won’t you, Harry?”

“You still want to play with dominance and submission, pet?” Harry stroked Draco’s side in a comforting manner.

“Fuck yes, Harry!”

“Good. Next time we do, I think you should be in charge. All right? Tie me up sometime?”

Draco realized that there was one more thing he needed to admit. “I would love to tie you up, Harry. But there’s something else I want to ask for now, while we’re being so open.”

Harry nodded with curiosity.

“I, sometimes, well… rougher. I’d like you to be a little rougher sometimes.”

“Really, pet? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“But a little pain, the right sort, can be really erotic, Harry. Remember the first time you went to brush my hair?”

Harry nodded once.

“I thought you were going to spank me with that brush, not use it on my hair. And the thought of you spanking me got me really hard.”

“Really…” Harry got a mischievous look.

“Yeah. Really.” Draco smiled and kissed Harry’s shoulder. “Now where’s the lube? I need to fuck you.”

They put their wands on the bedside table and put the lube in a more convenient place.

Draco lubed a finger and teased at Harry’s anus. Harry began to gasp, and Draco kissed him. He pushed his finger in and when Harry tensed, he kissed him more, to distract him. As soon as Harry seemed to relax, Draco pushed in a second finger, and this time, Harry hardly seemed to notice, so intent was he on Draco's tongue in his ear, on his neck.

“Ready for my cock, Harry?”

“Fuck yes. I want you inside me, now.”

Draco put a pillow under Harry’s arse and climbed over Harry’s spread legs, his relaxed torso, his panting, eager smile. Draco lined up his cock and pressed. There was a touch of resistance, then a tight, welcoming satiny heat. Draco stopped moving and took shallow breaths, willing himself to last. In a moment, he’d garnered enough control to thrust in the rest of the way, and then he began a deep, slow rhythm. Harry’s legs were spread out wide, and Draco was resting his weight on his fists, staring into Harry’s eyes.

“Pinch my nipples, Harry. Harder? Harder! Fuck!”

Harry seemed reticent at first, but then, seeing Draco's reaction, he did as Draco asked. Soon he was twisting them viciously, and Draco was coming, screaming, collapsing.

Draco rested on Harry for a long moment, almost ready to fall asleep, but he knew Harry hadn’t come yet. He reached clumsily for the lube, found it, and grabbed Harry’s cock. A little lube, and then he positioned Harry’s cock and sank down on it. 

Harry didn’t bother trying to last. He came soon, kissing Draco and sliding in and out of his arse.

They lay together in the bright morning sun of a new day on Ogygia, silent, stroking one another’s skin and looking at the ocean.

Finally, Harry spoke quietly, as though a loud voice might damage what they had done, what they had created. “September third. That’s our real anniversary now.”

Draco kissed him.

Harry put a hand into Draco's hair. “I can only think of one thing to make this more perfect.”

Draco rested a hand on Harry’s hip. “What?”

“Make a baby with me?”


	16. Epilogue

Epilogue

 

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March, 2012

Draco reached out to test the feel of the cloth. He ignored the stranger next to him at the shop, but she didn’t ignore him.

“Your wedding ring is lovely,” she suddenly said.

“Thank you, but this isn’t actually my wedding ring; it’s my husband’s wedding ring. And he wears mine.”

“Ooh! Isn’t that romantic! Marge dear, did you hear that?”

Draco smiled inwardly. “Thank you. It’s so kind of you to say so. Won’t you excuse me please?”

“Of course my dear.” Marge’s friend suddenly reached out and patted his belly. “You and your husband and that baby you’re carrying, you have a good life.” She winked at him. 

“Thank you again, ma’am. I feel quite sure that we will.”

He could finish the shopping another time. Right now he needed a milkshake. And some solitude. But he smiled as he walked away.

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June, 2018 

Harry and Draco lay together in their bed. Harry was curled around Draco’s back, caressing Draco's round, growing belly.

“Your hair is a bit of a mess, love.”

Draco shoved his elbow back into Harry’s gut with only a touch of real force. “It is not! I will have you know my hair is a silken airy tangle, a gossamer web of…”

Draco's florid words dissolved into giggles as Harry tickled him till he shut up. Then Harry soothed Draco back to calm silence with gentler touches. 

“I was only going to offer to brush it, you great swot.” 

Draco stayed on his side, his back to Harry’s front, but he turned his head and leaned back to get a better look at Harry’s face. “You are always invited to brush my hair, Harry. You know that. It’s the only proper way to pay me back for keeping it so long for you, you know.” Then Draco pressed his arse backwards into Harry’s cock, smiling smugly to himself when he heard Harry try to swallow a gasp of desire.

“Great Merlin, Draco.” Harry began to stroke Draco's side and belly again. “How I have come to love you. And Taurus and Hermione, and this new baby you are giving us. You are the great miracle of my life. Do you know that?”

“Oh Harry…” Draco sighed with pretended frustration but snuggled closer to encourage Harry’s continued stroking. “Surely your mother was really the great miracle of your life, don’t you think?”

“That… well… I can’t even count that as a miracle. That was a sacrifice, for which I will always be grateful, of course, but now that I have children of my own I know what it means to consider giving your life for theirs, and I know I’d die in a heartbeat to save even one of the children. That’s just… the way of the universe. 

“Love, marriage, a match like ours… it is a miracle, Draco, and I stand by my statement. You,” and Harry nuzzled Draco's neck and pressed his hardening cock into the cleft of Draco's warm arse, “are definitely the great miracle of my life, because you gave me my adult life, my real life. Love, children, happiness, and the best sex this side of Saturn.”

“Speaking of which…” Draco wriggled and felt Harry’s cock grow even harder. 

“Yess…” Harry hissed. “What position do you want, my love?”

Draco slowly got up on his knees and looked into Harry’s face, smiling. “I can’t top you again until after the birth. I’ve just recently grown too big for that.”

“Pity.” Harry winked at Draco.

“You know you love it.” Draco growled. 

Harry gave a look of badly faked surprise, fluttered his eyelashes and put his hand on his heart. “Me? Love having your big, hard cock, sliding in and out of my tight little arsehole?”

Draco groaned and closed his eyes. “Fucking hell, Harry, quit teasing me and grab the lube, will you? I want to be on your lap, on our knees, all right?”

Harry scrambled for the lube, one hand already on his erection, making sure he stayed ready for Draco. “As long as we have the mirror up, all right, pet?”

“Magical Moses, I’ve created a monster. Yes, husband, if you want to see my huge, heaving, pregnant belly that desperately, we’ll use the mirror.” Draco pulled the curtain away from the wall behind the bed, revealing a large mirror they normally kept hidden to keep the children from asking uncomfortable questions Harry and Draco weren’t yet prepared to answer.

“Draco, how many times do I have to tell you I **love** the way you look when you’re pregnant?”

“I don’t know yet, Harry. Keep telling me. I’ll let you know when you’ve reached quota.”

Harry smirked and pulled Draco backwards, helping his husband slide down onto his erection. With a thought from Harry, the rope Draco used for leverage released from the canopy over the bed, and Draco grabbed it and held on, pulling himself him up and sliding back down, Harry’s strong hands helping him move gracefully.

In the mirror, Harry’s eyes gazed hungrily at Draco's belly, his eyes, his flushed skin. Harry’s hand was on Draco’s cock and Draco knew he wouldn’t last. It was a side effect of pregnancy. More hormones, more emotions, less sexual control. Luckily, he and Harry were generally both so turned on throughout his first and third trimesters that they made up for the lowered quality of their sexual encounters with an increase in frequency. At least, that was how Draco saw it. Harry claimed to see no decrease in quality, but Draco was pretty sure those were just the pretty words of a lovestruck sap.

Ahh, but who was Draco kidding, really? If anyone in this marriage was a lovestruck sap, it was the pregnant blond. 

Harry’s hand was stroking him just right now, hard and slow, a twist at the head, and just when Draco thought he was about to come, Draco made sure it would be good by angling down and hitting his own prostate with Harry’s cock.

He fountained over Harry’s hand, panting and gasping. Harry came soon after, raining kisses on Draco's shoulder blades. They fell asleep together, wrapped in a blanket of warmth and security that nothing could breach.

Until a house-elf woke them in the morning, of course.

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January, 2088

Hermione bustled into the kitchen, tucking strands of salt and pepper hair behind her ear. She hadn’t lived at the Manor in half a century, but it would always feel like home to her. Her Papa was sitting at the table drinking a cup of, from the familiar smoky smell, lapsang souchong. Winky’s daughter Dibby, Hermione’s favorite house-elf, was clucking over him. No one was better than Dibby at relieving Papa’s arthritis. Not even Papa’s healer was as good. 

“Hi Papa. I came by to see how you were doing.”

“I’m fine sweetie, more than fine.” Papa patted the seat next to him, putting the _Prophet_ down on the table. “How is your new grandson?” Papa bore the grin of a loving father and a proud patriarch.

Hermione sat down and Dibby brought her a cup of tea, piping hot with a dab of milk. Just the way she preferred it. 

“Brian is adorable, Papa. And Jane is such a wonderful big sister.”

She smiled at Dibby and gave her ear a gentle little tug. “Thank you, Dibby.” Then she sipped her tea and looked at her Papa, his hair now gone completely white.

“My kids are all turning out to be wonderful parents.” 

“Like mine all did.” Papa smiled at Hermione.

Hermione relaxed a bit at the praise. “It’s a delight to see them grow into it.”

Papa simply smiled again and nodded, then sipped at his tea. 

“And how is Dad? Is he home?”

“Not right now, sweetheart. I think he said he was going to go consult on an exhibit at the new museum about the Second Voldemort War. You know how he can’t stand to see inaccuracy in those sorts of things.”

Hermione laughed. “Heavens yes, Papa. I do know! Remember when I did that huge project on the war for History of Magic, and Dad Flooed to Hogwarts three times to make sure I got it right? By the end I thought I wouldn’t get a mark on my paper at all, that he would get the credit instead of me!”

Papa and daughter laughed together, remembering. Then Hermione grew silent.

“Papa? There’s something I’ve been wondering for a while.”

“What is it, darling?”

“Do you really love Dad? Even after the way you two got together?”

“Are you and Lionel having problems, my girl?”

“Oh Papa! You’re such a worrier!”

“Forgive an old father and answer the question, then I promise to answer yours. All right?”

“No Papa, Lionel and I are just fine. I swear it. We’ve been married forty-five years now. I think we’ve rather gotten used to each other.” Hermione smiled a moment, thinking fondly of her husband. “But now it is your turn, Papa. I know your marriage was sort of arranged, and Grandpa Malfoy was a big part of getting you two together, and I just… I just wondered.”

“Yes, sweetheart, I really do… I really do love him.” Papa patted Hermione’s hand. “Your dad and I… we met in 1991, you know that? We thought we hated each other as boys. It was an unlikely beginning to a romance, I’ll admit that.” Papa chuckled warmly. “But I love your Dad, Hermione. I loved him when I married him, I loved him when we deliberately conceived each and every one of you wonderful kids, and I love him still. I know now that I will love him till the day I die.”

The two sat together in kitchen in companionable silence, enjoying their tea and one another’s company. 

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September 14, 2196

“The Boy Who Lived” died peacefully at Malfoy Manor last night, after a brief illness, surrounded by much of his large family. He was 216 years old. His unusually long lifespan (the current average for wizards is 179.7 years) is generally attributed to the surge of magical power he absorbed when defeating the Dark Lord Voldemort for the final time, in 1998. He was eighteen years of age at that time. See “The Defeat of the Dark Lord Voldemort”on page 11.

Harry Malfoy-Potter first defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort at the tender age of fifteen months. He attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry under the illustrious Albus P.W.B. Dumbledore. See “Harry Potter, the Early Years” on page 12. 

Along with the secret Order of the Phoenix (See “The Cadre behind the Victory” on page 12) and his close friends, the late Hermione and Ronald Granger-Weasley (See “His Best Friends, a Hero and a Heroine in Their Own Right” on page 11), he defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort by destroying six Horcruxes and then the Dark Lord himself. Mr. Malfoy-Potter then completed Auror training and spent seventy-nine years in the Auror Corp of Magical Law Enforcement. He finished his professional career as the head of the Auror Corp for the entire United Kingdom. He repeatedly refused offers of political posts, ambassadorships and positions as Seeker for professional Quidditch teams. Mr. Malfoy-Potter preferred a quiet life.

Harry Malfoy-Potter’s beloved husband of one hundred eighty-one years preceded him beyond the veil in 2192. The love the two men shared was legendary. (See “The Romance of Three Centuries on page 11). Draco Malfoy-Potter was a Potions Master of the first water. His private research contributed greatly to our modern understanding of many potions used for healing, law enforcement, and cleansing, among other accomplishments. He published six lauded books and countless articles through the years but never took a position working for anyone, preferring privacy and the opportunity to dedicate much of his time to his husband and children.

Mr. Malfoy-Potter is survived by his eight children: Malfoy heir Taurus Malfoy and his wife Ayelet, Potter heir Hermione Potter and her husband Lionel, widower Andronicus Malfoy-Potter, Florizel Malfoy-Potter and his husband Jonathan, Dionyza Malfoy-Potter and her husband Zaci, Timandra Malfoy-Potter and her husband Shai, Valeria Malfoy-Potter and her wife Elizabeth, and Corin Malfoy-Potter and his wife Jahia. The Malfoy-Potters leave a legacy of honor and love to twenty-three grandchildren, seventy-eight great-grandchildren, and, so far, twenty-nine great-great-grandchildren and six great-great-great-grandchildren.

_finis_

 

 

 

 

Author’s note: for those who are curious about the names I gave to Harry and Draco's children, they are all Shakespearian. (Yes, Shakespeare really did name a male “Florizel.”) Taurus, in addition, was named for a constellation, a long-standing Black family tradition. Hermione and Andronicus, in addition, were named for Hermione and Ronald Granger-Weasley.

The spousal names are generally names I found on baby name searches on the internet. Ayelet and Shai are both Hebrew names. Lionel, Jonathan and Elizabeth are of course English names. Zaci and Jahia are African names (internet baby name searches aren’t always very specific).

Writing this has been a great pleasure, surprise, and learning experience. (And aren’t you happy to ride along for someone else’s learning experience! ;-) I wish to thank DrG and Moony yet again for all their hard work. I wish to thank the Potter porn mamas for their fabulous support. And I thank each and every one of my readers for the generous gift of your time and attention. In addition, if you ever left a review, I am deeply grateful. They mean the world to me.


	17. Timestamp

Timestamp: Appearances – “Expecting Andronicus”  
Sometime in June, 2018

Beta by owensmom

For those of you who have wondered, this timestamp will answer the burning question “which one is Papa and which one is Daddy?” I’d actually worked hard to keep that ambiguous in the Epilogue, but you know, needs must and all that. *laffs*

Warning: what’s the step beyond ‘fluff,’ anyway? Goop? This is pretty sappy, folks, but I am unrepentant. Appearances is a romance novel, after all, and this takes place after the wedding.

A/N: Gailrene requested “Here's a idea for a drabble. It's from Appearances as you can guess from me. The first time Draco and Harry first born kicked or the naming ceremony and why they choice Hermione.” That’s not exactly what she got, but it’s not that far off. I hope you like this, Gailrene!  
The bedtime prayer comes from two prayers I found on MysticWicks Online Pagan Community and Pagan Forums and Spiritual Sanctuary http://www.mysticwicks.com/archive/index.php/f-10.html. I don’t know if Litha and Faery-Wings were offering their original work or quoting other people’s prayers/poems.

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Draco waddled slowly into the nursery, looking for his two and a half year old. “Min-min? It’s bedtime, kitten. Where’s your Daffodil?”

Hermione looked up from her drawing, alarmed. “Daffidiwl?”

Draco squatted with some difficulty next to his daughter. “I think you left her in the hallway outside the library, sweetie. Go look there on your way to your room. I’ll meet you there to tell you and your brother the bedtime stories in a few minutes.”

Behind Draco, Harry walked in. His step was firmer, his voice much louder. “Taury! Did you brush your teeth yet?”

Five year old Taurus looked up from his trains and whined “PAH-pa….”

“Don’t ‘Papa’ me, young man. We warned you that bedtime was ten minutes away ten minutes ago. Now scoot on down the hallway to the bathroom and brush those teeth!” Harry sighed and leaned against the doorjamb. Taurus pouted, but then he put his train on the shelf and left the nursery. 

Harry extended a hand and helped Draco off the floor. “Draco my love, I really don’t know how you do this all day, every day. They are _exhausting_.”

Draco smiled and leaned against Harry. “The house elves are very helpful, Harry, but really, it’s a joy. I love being a daddy.”

Harry wrapped an arm around Draco's shoulder. “And thank heaven for that, babe, since you’re due in less than three months.”

“Yes, and don’t I know it,” Draco sighed. “I feel like a fucking whale.”

“But you look like a fucking wet dream…” Harry teased as he whispered breathily into Draco's ear.

“Not now, lover. We have to get Taurus and Hermione into bed, first. Then you can rub my back and see about convincing me to sit on your cock.”

Harry kissed Draco's cheek. “It’s a date, my love. Your back, my hands. As soon as the ickle hedgehogs are asleep. And speaking of the beasts, have you given any thought to what I said this morning before I left?”

Draco closed his eyes and leaned against Harry again. “Yes, darling, I have. And I agree. We’ll name him Andronicus. I’ve also decided I would like his middle name to be Erakis. Then he can have one Shakespeare name and one star name, like Min-min.”

“Andronicus Erakis Malfoy-Potter, eh? I like it. It has dignity. It’s a good wizarding name. I’m not familiar with that star, though. What constellation is it in?”

“Draco, actually. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Mind? Of course not. I love it. It’s a wonderful, subtle way to put your name into his.” The men rested together for a moment, but when Harry started to stroke Draco's hair, Draco pulled away swiftly.

“There will be time enough for that later. Let’s go make sure Taury’s brushed his teeth and help Min-min brush hers.”

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“All right there, hedgehogs! In your beds! Min-min, do you have your Daffodil?”

Hermione snuggled into her bed with a stuffed elephant that was longer than she was. “Yef, Daddy.”

“Good girl. Taury-boy? Do you have the blankie Grand-mère made for you?”

Taurus peeked out mischievously from underneath a tattered green and silver blanket. “Yes, Daddy.”

Draco sat on Taury’s bed and Harry sat on Min-min’s bed, stroking his daughter’s dark hair. Harry spoke softly to the children. “You two know that soon you will have a new little brother, right?”

The children both nodded solemnly, then Hermione smiled. “Baby bwover!”

The men smiled at her enthusiasm, and Harry continued. “Yes hedgehog-mine, Healer Adams says Daddy is going to have another little boy. Daddy and I wanted to tell you that we’ve decided to name your brother Andronicus, after Uncle Ron.”

Taury piped up. “Like Min is named after Auntie Hermione?”

“Exactly, sweetheart.” Draco responded.

Taury frowned, thinking hard. “Then why aren’t you gonna name my brother Ron?”

“’Going to,’ son, not ‘gonna.’” Draco chided gently. “That’s a very good question. Your Papa and I like Shakespearian names and star names. Andronicus is from the play Titus Andronicus. Your first name, Taurus, is a constellation, but it is also from the play ‘Antony and Cleopatra.’ And Hermione’s first name is from the play ‘A Winter's Tale.’ Both Dorado and Lacerta, your middle names, are stars.”

“What will the baby’s middle name be, Daddy?”

Draco smiled warmly and stroked Taurus’ back over the blankets. “Another good question, kiddo. We want to name him Andronicus Erakis. And he won’t just be a Malfoy, like you, or just a Potter, like Min-min. Andronicus, and all the brothers and sisters that come after, will be both Malfoy and Potter. So you are Taurus Dorado Malfoy, and Min-min is Hermione Lacerta Potter, and the new baby will be Andronicus Erakis Malfoy-Potter. What do you think?”

Min-min blinked sleepily and snuggled Daffodil’s ear with her nose, but Taurus frowned seriously and gave it a moment’s thought. Then he proclaimed “I like it. It’s a good name.”

Then Min-min had a question. “Where wiwl baby sweep?”

“The baby will sleep in Daddy and Papa’s room for a year or two, sweetie, just like you and Taury did until you got old enough to move in here, and just like in a few years Taury will be old enough to have his own bedroom. All right?”

Hermione snuggled Daffodil’s ear and smiled. “Aw wight, Daddy.”

“Now,” Draco said, “are we ready for the bedtime stories?”

Both children nodded silently and Harry began to speak in a soothing, measured voice. “Once upon a time there was a snake that fell in love with a wolf. At first the wolf said ‘No, no snake, you must not love me.’ But the snake was devoted and through time, he taught the wolf to love him. 

“Then a day came when the snake did not visit the wolf. At first the wolf was sad and lonely, and then the wolf was angry. He thought the snake was unkind to teach him to love the snake and then not come back. So the wolf went looking for the snake, to yell at him for hurting the wolf’s feelings. But when he finally found the snake, the snake was caught in a dangerous trap, and the wolf – in the strength that can come from love – freed him from it. And so the wolf and the snake lived happily ever after.”

Then Draco began to speak. “Once upon a time a dragon fell in love with a lion. For a long time the dragon loved the lion from afar and the lion did not know, for the lion lived on the ground and the dragon flew through the air, and the lion did not know he could look up to see the beautiful dragon in the sky.”

Draco ignored the smirk he knew darted across his husband’s face at this point in the story. It happened every night now, and was as predictable as any other part of the children’s bedtime routine.

“So one day the dragon landed in front of lion and bowed to him. But the lion was afraid and he roared with fear. He had never been approached by a dragon before, you see. The dragon was sad but he refused to give up, for the lion was fierce and strong and brave, and the dragon loved him like the sun.

“So the dragon brought the lion gifts. First he brought a gift of clean, cold water, to counter his own fire-breath. Then he brought a gift of gold, to show his own worth and the worth of the lion. Last he brought a gift of bread, in the hopes that they could share it. The lion broke the bread and they ate it together. And so the dragon and the lion lived happily ever after.”

Then Draco smiled at Harry and reach across the small gap between the children’s beds. They grasped one another’s hands and reached for their children’s hands at the same time. Together, the four of them spoke the words of their nightly prayer, to end the bedtime ritual.

"As I lay here in my bed  
Pillow tucked beneath my head  
Maiden bring me joyful dreams  
Mother bring me peace serene.  
And Wisest Crone watch over me  
Until the light of dawn I see.  
Mother Earth and Father Sky,  
Watch over me here where I lie.  
Bring me dreams of peace tonight,  
and wake me with the morning light.”

Then, very quietly, each father kissed the downy head of each child, and they slipped out of the room, dimming the lights as they walked out the door and casting a listening ward and an alarm ward. 

“I think I have a date with your lower back, Draco. Shall we retire to our bedroom?”

Draco smiled wearily in agreement. “I love you, Harry.”

“I love you, too, Draco.”

_finis_


	18. Vignette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This Appearances vignette was written purely for the fun of it.  
> Many thanks to Frayach ni Cuill for the beta. 
> 
> Appearances vignette -- about 2,500 words.

It was when the calendar reminded me that both of our wedding anniversaries were approaching that I'd suddenly realized: Draco and I don't make love anymore.

Now, don't get me wrong. We still fuck like rabid Jarveys - and fairly often, too. But do I take the time to worship his beautiful body? To cherish him, inch by inch? To show him, the way I used to, with fingertips and tongue and time, that he is still my first choice, my perfect lover?

When was the last time I'd asked Ron and Hermione to watch the children over a weekend so that I could take Draco up to Skye and do nothing but make love to him until we were forced to come up for air?

I can't remember how long it's been. That's how long.

And it really began to upset me.

Of course, Draco had figured out, very quickly, that something was off.

He's so good at reading me, better all the time, really. It just amazes me. You would think, what with my skill at Legilimency, my professional experience, and my years with this man, that I'd be just as able to read him. Or, hell, that I'd at least be less surprised by now.

But you would be wrong.

I've come to accept it - and revel in it, really. My husband knows me incredibly well. He predicts me, soothes me, cuts my weird notions off before they can disrupt our family life, and when I'm actually growing a good idea he keeps the kids out of my hair so I can get somewhere with it.

Fuck, he's amazing. I still love him so much.

Where was I? Right. I love him, but I hadn't been showing it properly. Well, he confronted me about my funk after only a day or two of me fretting about it (as surreptitiously as I could, which obviously meant nothing to him. Like I said, he reads me like a scroll.)

"Out with it, Harry." He said to me after we sent the kids off to bed. 

I dithered and held back for a moment, but I quickly realized I was just making things worse, and I tried to explain. 

And then.

And then he said the most amazing thing.

"You make love to me all the time. You make love to me every day."

I wasn't too stunned to deny it, to ask what he meant. But I can admit, I've put this one in a Pensieve more than once, just to savour it. That's how I know I have the wording right. He answered me like this:

"Harry, you make love to me all the time. When you brush my hair, when you rub my back, my feet. You make love to me every time you tell me how much you appreciate me and my potions work. Every time you express your gratitude for the way I take care of our children.

"Things change as a couple matures. We've been together a long time now. We don't need the slow build up the way we once did. When you've had sex as many times as we have it isn't so much about anticipation. Now it's about fulfillment.

"I don't need the kind of sex we used to have. Not anymore. Once upon a time I needed to know that you were interested in my body, in spending time with me. When we were courting, I needed proof that you really found me worthy of your time and energy.

"Now? What I need now is proof that I still get you hard, the opportunity to get off in fun places all over the house, to feel young, and to have time alone with you before one of the kids needs us!"

Then he'd sat in my lap, which is ridiculous because we are exactly the same height, but he knows I love it even though I don't always like to admit that out loud… anyway, he sat on my lap, and he wriggled a little… of course I wanted him already, after a speech like that, but that little _squirm_ … fuck. 

I tried to hold off, to talk a while longer, but it was hopeless. Even after seven kids and all these years together, he is still so hot. In seconds I was hard as stone and kissing his neck. That's when he'd whispered his big announcement in my ear.

"Harry, my love, I've been thinking that it is time for another baby."

I'll admit I was surprised. After all, we are fifty-four now. Draco would be fifty-five at the birth, and did he really want to go through another pregnancy at this age? And then eleven more years of daily, hands-on parenting? Taurus and Hermione were already done with Hogwarts! 

And this would be a substantial age gap. The biggest age gap so far is the four years between Andronicus and Florizel, but Valeria is almost five. And she really likes being the baby, too. Though perhaps that's a lousy reason to let her stay in that position.

But Draco was quite certain. He told me that he had been mulling the idea over internally for almost a full year, and he definitely wanted another child. 

And how could I say no? We both know who does the bulk of the work with parenting. He tells me I'm wonderfully supportive, but I think he actually means the house-elves. I work forty, fifty, occasionally even sixty hours a week. I work a bit less now that my position is more administrative, but still, he's the real parent. 

And then I realized another baby would give me a chance - an excuse, even - to do better. To be home more, to pay more attention, to play more, draw more, listen more, and disappear to the Ministry less. He was after me all the time to work shorter hours, to ask the children to talk about current events and politics with us at the dinner table, to pop over to Hogwarts occasionally to surprise the kids during school, and to take three weeks off in August every year for a proper vacation, with the whole family (if we can convince the three oldest to come along, that is). Here I was thinking he was the better parent, the more dedicated parent, and I decided I should do something to change the balance instead of just whinging at myself.

So we'd made a deal. One month of making love every time we had sex. Next weekend spent together, alone, away from the children and the house. And only then would we work on conceiving. 

I kept my ideas about being more hands-on to myself. Let him see what I accomplish as it happens instead of measuring me against a stated goal.

I could hardly believe my luck, an eighth baby. Eight! I had come so far from that lonely cupboard, my only living blood relatives the aunt and cousin who hated me and treated me like dirt. Now I had this beautiful husband and soon we would have eight children together. How did I get so lucky?

Then Draco had taken my hand and pulled at me to come along to the bedroom, and thoughts of luck and babies burned up like so much mist. 

I've put that night in a Pensieve a few times too, I can admit. After all of that foreplay and romantic talk, he could have taken me up against the wall, and we could have fallen into bed asleep five minutes after we got into the room. But even though I knew he was tired from helping the boys' with their summer homework and calming the girls' tantrums and answering Valeria's "Why, Daddy?" all day, he made love to me, and I made love to him. He pulled me into the bedroom, and I unthinkingly warded the door with our standard spell combination. It allows the children to barge right in as long as they use the word "emergency." At not-quite-five, Valeria still sometimes wakes in the night, and she definitely thinks that nightmares about, say, curtains, are a Papa and Daddy-worthy emergency.

But Draco gave me a chiding, loving look and called in Floppsy. He stood between us, so that she could not see what he was doing with his hand on my cock behind him, and instructed her that we were not to be disturbed unless the house caught fire. He stationed her outside our door to intercept any child who woke and came looking for us. Then he re-warded the door so we could hear nothing, and they could hear nothing.

And then we began to undress one another. 

I told you he was still beautiful, didn't I? Because oh… oh my.

"I can't believe this body is fifty-four," I told him as I pulled away only just enough to admire the planes and curves of his still-smooth chest, the tiny pot of his small, warm belly.

He pulled me back, bit right below my ear and whispered, amused, "still such a Muggle sometimes, Potter."

I'd forgotten again that we're going to live twice as long as I once expected, but it didn't matter anymore because I was teasing his sensitive nipples, and he had got my neck's complete attention.

We'd gotten the robes and shirts off now, but our trousers were still on, and I pressed my groin into his. Although we are the same height, his legs are longer than mine, so the head of my cock only pressed into the middle of his erection, and I knew it was a lot less than he wanted at that moment. But I was determined that this was going to be a slow, special night, and we kept our trousers on for a while longer as I stroked and teased his still-elastic skin. He'd told me earlier that I make love to him when I give him a back-rub, and that's wonderful because I love his back. I ran my fingernails down it, and he arched slightly.

"I want to look at your back while I fill you with cock, lover," I whispered into his blond hair, threaded now with the occasional streak of white. "I want to slide in between those perfect peach-half arse cheeks and slowly tease you while I admire your beautiful back. I want to fuck you so slowly that we both go mental with need for more, and then I want to come before you come, so you can throw me down and slide your cock into me and come inside me."

"And _I_ ," he answered, "want to feel that cock of yours deep inside my mouth and throat. I want to get on my knees and tease you till you grab the back of my head and lose control. I want you to gag me with cock, husband. I want to try to breathe through my ears because it's preferable to letting go of your arse and not deep-throating you till your screams and groans test those wards."

I panted for a moment, working to respond with something other than, "anything you want, Draco," but all I could come up with was, "on the bed, now." But Draco smiled and complied. Very, very slowly. Leaving his now unbuttoned trousers on.

I bade him lay on his stomach and ripped my trousers, pants and socks off, regretting my own impatience and vowing to go more slowly once I'd climbed onto the bed.

I knelt over his arse, admiring the curve of his waist and the slide of his hips into the dipping waist of his trousers. I put my hands on his shoulders and rubbed for a moment, but he was already very relaxed, so I started a slow scratch instead. He sighed happily.

When I got down to his clothing, I started slowly pulling it downwards. I got it just over the swell of his arse and then stopped, moving to scratch up toward his shoulders and neck again. He accepted this with nothing but a small, relaxed sigh.

I repeated my movements, slowly teasing his clothing off an inch or two at a time, in between running my fingertips up and then down the length of his back.

Finally, his clothing lay bunched under his beautiful round arse cheeks, and I needed to taste him. I pulled his clothing off him, and lay down between his legs. I pulled his cleft toward my tongue and gave one experimental swipe of my tongue.

"Fuck, Harry, it's been so long...," he whispered reluctantly. I knew then that I'd been at least partially right. We did need to have more slow and dreamy, worshipping, cherishing sex. At least sometimes.

So I applied myself to rimming him thoroughly. And although it wasn't the most relaxing position for either of us, I yanked his arse in the air and reached underneath him to pinch his nipples while I plundered his arsehole with my tongue.

He couldn't help it. He came. I can't believe I spent our entire courtship having no idea how much he loves having his nipples thoroughly abused.

I _Summoned_ a Restorative Potion from the bathroom cupboard and gave it to him to drink. As soon as he was erect again, I rolled him onto his back and slid onto his cock.

Then I threw my head back and wailed. _Fuck_ but it felt good to have him in my arse.

He was tired, but he tilted his hips into me, over and over, as I rode him and pinched his nipples and teased him by leaning over to kiss him, nearly pulling right off his cock.

Finally, he rumbled something at me incoherently and pushed me onto my back. 

"What?" I panted.

"You haven't come yet, Harry," he growled. 

"Make me," I teased him.

He did, of course. Holy fuck, but he did. Remember that offer he'd made about deep throating me? I found myself pushed off the bed and stood against the wall, holding onto the top of his head for balance while he had my entire cock in his mouth and throat, one hand pulling roughly at my scrotum and a finger deep in my arse, pressing on my prostate. 

I came like a seventeen year-old virgin.

He was still hard from that potion, so after he helped me not collapse into a heap on the floor, we kissed our way to the bed, and I caressed him and kissed him and held him while I gave him a leisurely hand job, and he eventually came all over my stomach and hand. 

Then I was ready to sleep, but not my husband. No, Draco told me that, as wonderful as that had been, he didn't need to have that kind of sex to be happy. He stroked my hair and kissed my face and taught me, all over again, why I love him and that he loves me.

Corin was born ten months later, to the day. I made sure of that.

_finis, again!_

 

 

Notes for the obsessed:  
Draco 32 - son Taurus Malfoy born, 22 during vignette. Done with Hogwarts.  
Draco 35 - daughter Hermione Potter born, 19 during vignette. Done with Hogwarts.  
Draco 38 - son Andronicus Malfoy-Potter born, 16 during vignette. At Hogwarts.  
Draco 42 - son Florizel Malfoy-Potter born, 12 during vignette. At Hogwarts.  
Draco 44 - daughter Dionyza Malfoy-Potter born, 10 during vignette.  
Draco 46 - daughter Timandra Malfoy-Potter born, 8 during vignette.  
Draco 49 - daughter Valeria Malfoy-Potter born, almost 5 during vignette.  
Draco 55 - son Corin Malfoy-Potter born.


End file.
